


Tennessee Whiskey

by AngelOfLorien



Category: Warrior (2011)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger, Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Friends With Benefits, HEA Epilogue, Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mood Swings, Neighbors, Psychological Trauma, Sassy, Strangers to Lovers, Sweet, Tommy Conlon deserves to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2020-11-24 05:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20902109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfLorien/pseuds/AngelOfLorien
Summary: Jack meets her neighbor's son Tommy and has to share Paddy's house with him for a couple of weeks. A friendship develops, and so does attraction, even as she realizes that Tommy Conlon has a lot of personal demons.COMPLETED!





	1. Chapter 1

I unlocked the door to Paddy Conlon’s house and let myself inside. The old man was out for a few weeks—twenty-eight days, to be exact—and had asked me to check in on his cat while he was away. He’d assured me that Stubb was friendly and wouldn’t offer any trouble. Paddy was a fellow parishioner and my rental was only a few doors down on the other side of the street, so it wasn’t really a burden. And my landlord had decided to renovate my heat and air, so with Paddy’s permission, I’d had the landlord schedule it for this week and would crash at Paddy’s place. I didn’t like cats, but I could manage sharing a house with one for a few days, tossing some food in a bowl and scooping the box. Had to get the stars in my heavenly crown somehow.

“Kitty meow meow,” I called, dropping my backpack and grocery bags into a chair in the living room. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” There was a solid thump from another room and I grimaced. Judging from the sound of it, Stubb must be one of those cats that looks like an ottoman with a tail.

I went into the kitchen and opened the cabinet Paddy had said contained the cat food. I rattled the bag and called for the cat again, then bent and dumped a hefty portion into the dish beside the pantry door. I straightened and was met with a fluffy white cat standing on the counter, a little silver bell tinkling merrily on his turquoise collar.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, scooping the cat into my arms. Better to make nice right away, in my experience with the cantankerous beasties. I scratched his chin and cooed at him, and was rewarded by a low rumbling purr. But my tentative friendship with the cat was destined to be short lived, it would seem.

“How’d you get in here?”

The voice came from behind me and I whirled with a shriek, launching my furry charge across the island counter and directly at the face of the man who’d snuck up on me. Stubb yowled, the man caught him with a vicious curse, and then gently tossed the hissing, spitting fluffball to the floor.

“Jesus Christ, lady! Did you just throw a fuckin’ cat at me?” He blinked at me incredulously before moving toward the end of the counter. Toward me.

“You just hold it right there, mister,” I said, snatching up the nearest weapon I could find, which just happened to be a red rubber spatula with some cutesy saying scrawled on it. “I’m a black belt in three different martial arts, and I can have you bleeding on the floor in just a few seconds.”

He was still frowning at me, still moving, but now his expression was wary. I doubted it was my intimidation tactics as much as it was his attempting to gauge how crazy I was. I had, after all, thrown a live animal as my first line of defense.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“Well, who are you?” I countered, edging away from his advancement. “The old guy who lives here lives alone. Don’t come any closer!” I said, pointing the spatula. “I mean it, man. I will…I will eff you up!”

Stubb, having regained his composure from being projected like a Nerf missile, chose the moment to dart past me, hesitating only long enough to sink his considerable fangs into my Achilles tendon. I hopped away, letting go an angry growl through clenched teeth as I reflexively swatted at the cat’s tail with the spatula.

The stranger took advantage of my inattention and grabbed my wrist, twisting so my ineffective weapon clattered to the floor. He captured my other hand and jerked me around so that his arms encircled against my biceps like steel bands, keeping my arms pinned to my sides.

“Take it easy Karate Kid,” the man said. “I ain’t gonna hurt—oof!” He struggled to stay upright as I went dead-weight. I winced when he let go and let me bounce to the floor. “Lady, what the hell is wrong with you?” He stood over me, hands on hips, and glowered down at me like I was a kid throwing a tantrum in a grocery store. “All I wanna know is what you’re doing in my pop’s house.”

I shoved my hair out of my face and cleared my throat. “Your…pop?” I sighed. “The son. The one with the…” I moved my fists, miming a boxer, and nodded. “Right. Yeah. I didn’t know you were here anymore. Paddy didn’t say anything.” I curled my legs, readying myself to stand, and was surprised when he held a hand down to help me up. “Thanks. Um, yeah. I’m the house-sitter. Well, sort of. I’m supposed to feed the cat, but Paddy said I could stay while my place is being worked on. I thought you were gone to pri—uh, I thought you left after that big fight thing.”

He shrugged. “It’s handled. Didn’t plan on coming back here, but I figured I’d use the place ‘til I found one of my own, since the old man’s doing his newest stint in rehab.”

“Hey, he had nearly three years down, pal, and was doing pretty damn good ‘til he fell off the wagon. And he had a little help with that, from what I hear.” I shot him a look that let him know I was talking about him. I’d been volunteering at the AA meetings our church hosted and had heard Paddy talking about his relapse. “Real dick move, ya know?”

At least he had the decency to look contrite. “So what’s your deal other than being the friendly neighborhood cat-thrower?”

I bared my teeth and groaned, embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry about that. I startle easily.” I pointed at his face, the little bloodied lines where the cat’s claws had torn his cheek. “Sorry.”

“I’ll live.” He stretched out a hand. “Tommy.”

I smiled and returned the handshake. “Jack Ross.”

“Jack?” His eyes squinted in confusion, but his full lips curved at the corners. Amusement was a common reaction to my name, but I had to admit, it looked preferable on him. “Don’t look like a Jack.”

“Jaqueline Danielle. Tennessee born and bred, hence the name. My daddy has a weird sense of humor that’s lost on a lot of people. Probably would’ve been funnier if I’d been a boy.”

Understanding lit his eyes. “Jack…Daniel.”

“Nailed it.” I shrugged and tucked my hands in my pockets. “Family theme started with me. After me came Johnnie Walker Ross, Glen Livet Ross, and then little Jameson no-middle-name Ross brought up the rear.”

“School must’ve been a blast.”

“Didn’t bother me. We southerners have a tendency to laugh off things people up here get all butthurt about.” I smiled again. “You hungry? I brought some groceries. And I’m supposed to use the eggs Paddy’s got in the fridge so they don’t go to ruin.”

He shook his head. I shrugged out of my flannel—it was a chilly, rainy October evening outside, but the house was pretty warm—and tied the arms around my waist as I headed to retrieve my bags. I returned with my cargo and jostled the paper bags onto the island. Tommy stared silently from the other side. I stared back, absently taking things out of a bag while holding his gaze.

“What?” I asked.

“Making yourself at home, aren’t you?”

I glanced down at the small hoard I’d unloaded from the first bag and opened a bag of Sunchips. “Girl’s gotta eat, right? I figure hey, one of Jesus’s big miracles was to give a bunch of people bread and fish, not low-carb sugar-free organic wheatgrass and soy protein. So who am I to argue?” I munched the multigrain snack, offering him one as I continued. “Besides, I gotta keep a little extra meat on my bones, ya know? Winters up here suck.” I rolled the chips down and started unloading my second grocery bag. “You got any dietary restrictions I should know about?”

He frowned. “No. Why?”

“Because if you’re sticking around while I’m here, I don’t want to accidentally kill you if you’re allergic to peanuts or something.” I turned and began putting miscellaneous items in the pantry.

“Wait, you’re still planning on staying?”

“Yeah.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Renovations, remember? Why?”

“That ain’t weird to you? Sharing a place with a stranger?”

I snorted and went back to my task. “Dude, I grew up with strangers in and out of my house all the time. You’ll quickly learn I’m very low maintenance. Probably be the best roommate you’ve ever had. You won’t even know I’m here. But if you’re uncomfortable, I’m sure there’s a motel with some vacancies somewhere close.”

“Pretty fuckin’ presumptuous, dismissing me like that from a house that ain’t yours.”

I faced him, hands going to hips. “First of all, quit cussin' at me. Second, it ain’t like it’s your house either, is it, bud? Besides that, at least your dad knows _I’m_ stayin’ here.”

He crossed his arms, and damned if I didn’t get distracted by the way the light gray thermal stretched within in an inch of its life across his biceps. His voice buzzed in my ears and I jerked my gaze to his.

I blinked a few times. “What?”

“I said put on your rain boots and hit the road.”

My eyebrows shot up and I snatched the rest of my groceries from the counter. “I’m gonna put on my rain boots and stomp a puddle in your ass if you don’t drop that attitude.”

He muttered a curse under his breath and a moment later I heard the front door slam shut. I hadn’t heard him leave the room. Wasn’t natural for a man that stocky to be able to move without any noise.

I crept to the living room window and parted the blinds. Tommy sat on the wet front stoop, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The look on his face—a strange combination of anger and sadness—pulled a sigh from my lungs, and I resolved to be nicer when he came back inside. The man had been through a lot. I didn’t know details, but everybody in the neighborhood had followed his progress with that fight thing and had heard about the kerfuffle with the USMC. He wasn’t in jail, so I assumed they had taken it easy on him, all things considered. Still, it was obvious the guy had more baggage than a friggin’ airport luggage carousel, so it wouldn’t kill me to be a little less…well, _me_.

I let the blinds slip closed and returned to the kitchen, determined to make a delicious meal to woo a housemate. It would take some doing, but I could handle it.

Stubb was stretched out on the back of the chair. I reached out to stroke his head as I passed, but the rolling growl that rumbled out of him made me change my mind. I narrowed my eyes and hissed at him.

I could only woo one temperamental housemate at a time.

\--

“Knock, knock.” I cracked the door to the small office where Tommy had retreated when he’d come back into the house open and stuck my head in with a tentative smile. “Hi. Um, Truce? I come bearing gifts.”

“_Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes_,” he muttered, taking a pull from a bottle of beer.

I tilted my head and arched a brow. “Did you just put a hex on me?”

His lips curved as those intense eyes stared a hole through me. “Beware Greeks bearing gifts.”

“Well that doesn’t apply here.” I smiled merrily and held out a biscuit, inching through the door. “I’m not Greek.”

“That’s a Trojan horse if I ever saw one,” he said. He reached up to fidget with his ear, then scoffed a quiet laugh and took the offering. “Yeah, all right. Truce.”

“Good.” I headed for the door. “Dinner’ll be ready in about ten minutes if you want to join.”

He didn’t respond, so I kept walking. I still had to make gravy. I flipped my iPod back on when I got back to the kitchen, humming along or singing a few lines here and there as I cooked. The biscuits were done, eggs were scrambled, and the gravy was on its way to being lump-free and creamy. Bacon sizzled in the skillet next to where I stirred the gravy, sputtering and popping me now and then to remind me who was boss.

“You better stay away from Copperhead Road—ba-da-da-da-da! Ba-da-da-da-da! Ba-da-da-da-da! Ba-da-da-da-der der…”

I hummed the guitar solo and poured the gravy into a large bowl, then took up the bacon. I turned to set the last bit of food on the table and nearly jumped out of my skin when I almost collided with Tommy. He deftly reached out to steady me. Either that or to keep me from dropping the bacon.

“Homagawd, man! Put a bell on!”

He gave a small smile and took the food from me. “Shouldn’t be so jumpy.”

I laughed and retrieved the butter and jam from the fridge. “You shouldn’t be so ninja. Want some coffee? I made a fresh pot.”

He shook his head.

“Okay. I guess it’s done then. Have at it.” I sat in the chair across from him and fixed my plate. “What now?” I asked when I noticed him watching me.

He took a bite of eggs, then jerked his chin toward my plate. “Never seen anybody do biscuits like that.”

I looked down at my crumbled biscuit. “What? It’s efficient.”

He grinned, a full wide grin that changed his whole countenance. And dammit boy, I was in trouble because when you see something like that once, you want to see it all the time. Like those weirdos who see lights in the skies so they move out to the desert and live in tents.

I cleared my throat and took a bite, closing my eyes in bliss. “I may be lacking in many areas of my life, but I can make some dang good gravy.”

“It’s good,” he agreed. He shifted in his chair. “Sorry. For being a asshole earlier, I mean.” He reached for the jam and added a large dollop to a biscuit, licking a bit from the tip of his thumb.

I quickly turned my attention back to my food. “Oh, no.” I shook my head and took a drink of chocolate milk. “I get it. I shouldn’t have implied that you needed to leave. Sometimes—most times, actually—people don’t know how to take me. But I wasn’t serious,” I added. “At least seventy percent of what comes out of my mouth is bullshit.”

That little smirk was back. “You mean you’re not really a black belt in three different martial arts? I’d never’ve guessed.”

“When I feel cornered my mouth sort of…” I trailed off, thinking of how to best put it.

“Says stupid shit?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I coughed a little snicker. “Yeah, pretty much. You want some more? Food,” I said when his brows raised in question.

“Nah.” He sat back in his chair, hooking an arm over the back, and stroked his bottom lip with his thumb. “So why you so keen to help out my old man?”

I shrugged and fixed another biscuit, meticulously breaking it up and smoothing gravy over it. Anything to keep from following the path his thumb was making on his lip. “He’s nice.”

Tommy froze, then wheezed a rusty chuckle. Disdain dripped from the sound, and there was no question as to whether the smile he offered was mocking. “Nice? Yeah. Paddy Conlon, ya know, he’s a real nice guy now nobody wants anything to do with him.”

That statement was a basket of snakes I didn’t want to peek into, but I found myself opening it anyway. “If you and Paddy don’t get along, why’d you come back here?”

His jaw ticked and he reached over to grab the beer that had been sitting forgotten at the edge of the table. I hadn’t even noticed he’d brought it in. He pinned me with a speculative gaze, then canted his head. “Ask myself that every fuckin’ day, actually,” he said, taking a drink.

“You don’t think people can change?”

He shook his head and stood, tossing the bottle in the garbage can. “Not that much. Not when it matters.” He gathered his plate and utensils, then moved to the sink to run dishwater.

Deciding it best to move away from this topic of conversation for now, I scraped up my last bite of gravy before collecting my own dishes. “I’ll clean up.”

“I got it. You ain’t the maid.” He glanced over his shoulder at me, tilted his head toward the door. “The cat yakked in the living room anyway.”

“Ugh.” I wrinkled my nose and sighed. “Cats are bastards.”

“That one especially.”

I went to clean up Stubb’s mess—“Glad I’m not the friggin’ maid,” I muttered.—and offered him a treat to lure him back to my side, so to speak. He seemed appeased for the moment, though he didn’t purr, so I went back to the kitchen. Tommy had rolled his sleeves to the elbows and was vigorously scrubbing the bowl I’d used to mix biscuit dough. His shoulders were relaxed as he worked, carefully washing and rinsing one item at a time. He definitely didn’t appear to be the animal people had whispered about as they’d watched the YouTube video of him taking out that fighter at the local gym. He just seemed kind of sad to me. Lonely.

And on that note, I turned away and finished clearing the table.

When I was nine, my dad had passed a sad-looking mutt on the side of the road. I’d wanted to stop and pick him up, but my parents had vetoed it. I’d told my mom that I was going to grow up and live on a farm so I could pick up every stray dog I found, and that way they would have friends and a place to be happy. Mom had said then—and reminded me often—that there would always be sad strays looking for a home. I couldn’t rescue them all.

Not that Tommy Conlon was a stray dog in need of rescue, but he was definitely in need of a friend.

That, at least, I could help with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inappropriate dreaming. Awkward roommate interaction.

I awoke when the bedroom door opened, but rolled onto my side and faced away from him. He slipped inside and I heard his hoodie unzip, felt the bed give as he sat down. His fingers grazed my arm as he leaned over me.

“I know you're awake,” he whispered against my throat. His lips caressed my skin as he buried his face in the hollow between my neck and shoulder. He slid his calloused palm up my arm and lifted his head. “Look at me.”

I stayed still, refusing to obey. Who’d he think he was, anyway? My body shifted as he moved on the bed and my thick blanket was stripped away. Tommy might be many things—broken, dark things—but in my bed he was nothing but generous and energetic.

I felt him lean over me again and he placed a kiss on my shoulder, another on my back. Down my side, over my ribs. When he reached my hip, he nipped the skin between his teeth. I couldn't keep still anymore and my hips arched ever so slightly. I felt him smile against my flesh, the bastard.

“Seem awake now, don't we?”

When I still refused to speak, he bit me again, harder, and my breath hissed between my teeth. I swatted at his shoulder with a wince and a quiet laugh. He dipped his head and swirled the tip of his tongue over the teeth mark on my hip. My hip lifted closer and he smiled, a quick flash that softened the intensity of his features.

I rolled onto my back, reached up to stroke his stubbled cheek. He turned his chin into my palm, placing a kiss there too. Then he seemed to shake himself and stood, suddenly agitated. I followed him up, tugging the hem of my t-shirt down over my ample hips.

“What’s wrong?”

He closed the distance between us and gripped the back of my neck, drawing my face close to his. His other hand came up, cupping my jaws between his hands, and his eyes nearly glowed in the low light coming through the blinds from the streetlamp outside. “I want you so fuckin’ bad,” he said, breath fanning my cheek. He nuzzled my ear, nipped it. “I want to hear you scream my name when you come so I can remember the sound no matter where I am. ‘Cause wherever it is, whether I’m cold and wet or hot and dry, I’ll be aching to be inside you.” He backed away and let his hands drop.

“Then stay.” I reached out and caught his arm, gripping his wrist. “Stay with me.”

He tugged me forward and turned, walking me backward until I was pressed between his body and the door. His hands moved to my hips and he lifted me with surprising ease, considering my adoration of carbs and sweets.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and circled one arm around his shoulders. He dipped his head and kissed my chest, drawing a nipple deep into his mouth through my t-shirt. He switched his attention to my other breast and I tugged on the longest part of his hair, which was still pretty damn short, and drew his head back for a kiss. My tongue twined with his and I basically feasted on his mouth. The kiss was hard, hot, and demanding, like the man himself. The door rattled on its hinges with every movement we made.

Tommy pushed my hips away so I could put my feet down, then spun me and pressed me to the forward. The cold door smashed against my breasts, but I could feel his breath on the back of my neck and that's all I cared about. I tried to turn in his arms again, but his hand stayed me. He ran his hands down my arms, raising chill bumps on my skin, and took my hands in his, slowly lifting them above my head to press against the door. Wrapping one arm around my waist and kicking my legs wide, he slid one strong thigh between mine, and I was nearly undone.

“Do not move,” he growled against my ear. The same tone, I imagine, that had made other men tremble when facing him in the ring. I bit my lip and sighed.

He fell to his knees behind me and gripped my hips, holding me still as he tugged my panties down. He kissed my back, the base of my spine. Ran his tongue over the back of my thigh and traced the curve of my buttock. I rested my forehead against the door, felt paint chips crumple under my fingernails when my fists curled, while tremor after tremor of erotic pleasure swept up my body. He bit my ass cheek hard and I cried out, surprised.

I shoved off the door and turned, tugging my shirt over my head, frantic to feel him inside me. He grabbed my arms and crushed me to him, and I closed my eyes as he assaulted my lips. I streaked my fingernails down his chest and he hissed out a breath, pushing me away. I stumbled across the room, thankful that the bedpost was there to support me, because I knew my legs wouldn’t. He paced, eying me like a jungle cat might before leaping and devouring its prey. That deep, predatory gaze should’ve unnerved me, but instead it had my pulse quickening even more.

As quick as lightning, he grabbed me and bent me over the end of the bed. His left hand stroked up my back even as he lightly traced the still-twinging bite mark on my ass with his right. He chuckled darkly, obviously pleased with himself.

“Tommy,” I pleaded. I needed him to fill me. I needed him, period.

He smoothed his hand over my curves and I squeaked, stomach clenching with desire as his hand resumed contact with a resounding smack. He moved between my thighs, and I leaned more into the mattress, opening more for him. His belt buckle jingled and denim scratched at the backs of my thighs as he lined himself up. He entered my core from behind, the angle sizzling my nerves with a delicious friction, and it wasn't long before I was reaching back blindly to grasp at his arms and hands. He leaned over me, releasing my hips and streaking his hands up my torso. He trailed them over my breasts, pinching my nipples firmly enough to draw animalistic sounds from my throat. He sank his teeth into the nape of my neck and my world exploded into a million pieces, each one a new feeling of pleasure so intense, I wanted to weep with it. He followed soon after with a gruff roar of his own before collapsing me to the bed.

“Tommy,” I whispered.

“Hm?” He sounded sleepy, and he turned his head into my skin, placed a kiss soft as a butterfly wing on my shoulder blade.

“Much as I enjoy having you on me, you make a heavy damn backpack.”

His laughter broke the darkness, and he kissed the back of my neck one more time before straightening and crawling into bed. I stood by and let him get comfortable, smiling happily when he tugged me down to lay atop him—

I yelped as I rolled off the bed. I sat up in the cold floor and shoved my hair out of my face. Son of a bitch, I’d been dreaming.

About Tommy.

Doing things.

_Naked_.

Okay, so being friends with Tommy Conlon was going to be harder than I thought. It’d been three days, and I’d already broken the sex-dream barrier.

I pushed myself up and fumbled my way to the bathroom, cursing under my breath the whole way. It was technically morning, I guess, even though the sun wasn’t up yet. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, disgusted with myself. Or more appropriately, with my subconscious.

I shook my head and reached for my toothbrush. “Get a hold of yourself, stupid.”

Stubb was making an ungodly fuss, so after I’d brushed my teeth, I padded to the kitchen to fill his food bowl so he wouldn’t be howling outside my door for the next few hours. I heard the front door open and as I walked back through the living room, a blast of cold air streaked up my bare legs.

I’m not a morning person under the best circumstances, much less when I haven’t rested, so instead of being flustered that I was standing in the middle of the house in a pair of polka dot underwear and a clingy pajama top with a picture of a puppy declaring that it was “not fat, just a little Husky,” I was annoyed. I shot a baleful glance toward Tommy as I passed.

“Morning,” he said quietly, tugging his hoodie over his head. He took off his fingerless gloves and tucked them into the hoodie pocket before hanging it up, then wiped his forehead with the hem of his white tank top.

Christ on a cracker, the man was _covered_ in tattoos. Even had them on his stomach. How the hell was that fair? My annoyance—and my awareness of his masculinity—ratcheted up another notch.

I stopped and scowled. “What are—were you working out?” I croaked.

“Went for a run, yeah.”

“At five o’clock in the morning.”

One corner of his mouth lifted and he nodded.

I fought back visions of his mouth doing some of the naughty things from my dream. “Ridiculous,” I muttered, turning away again and sleepily stumbling back to the bathroom. “I’m goin’ back to bed. Good seein’ you, Tommy.”

“Mm-hm. Good seeing so much of you this morning, Jack.”

I threw a half-hearted thumbs-up over my shoulder and heard him chuckle, the sound of his genuine amusement curling around me like a warm blanket.

Bastard.

\--

Inappropriate dreaming aside, time passed without incident. Tommy came and went, either to the gym or to the little bar a few blocks over, or occasionally working on the old Triumph motorcycle that had belonged to his brother before he’d moved to Philly. In the evenings I’d make dinner, he’d clean up afterward. Sometimes we’d talk, sometimes we’d eat in companionable silence. We found a rhythm, and the longer we were around each other, the more comfortable we became.

The renovations were taking longer than expected—it had been nearly two weeks now that I’d been crashing at Paddy’s place—and I’d stopped by my house on the way to work to check progress. The foreman had assured me they would finish up early the next day.

I came in that night after a long shift at the diner and found Tommy lying on the couch, Stubb curled up on his stomach and accepting lazy strokes with a contented purr. A near-empty whiskey bottle peeked out of an upturned brown paper bag next to the sofa.

“Rough day?” I asked, hanging up my jacket.

Tommy hadn’t shaved in a few days, so the beginnings of a beard added a touch of ruggedness to his features. He scratched his head and twisted to peer up at me. “Nah.”

I motioned toward the bottle. “Seems like it.”

“What, a man can’t have a little drink?” He grinned and watched me through glassy eyes.

He lifted his feet when I nudged them so I could sit at the end of the couch. He put his feet in my lap, and I rested my arms on his shins. “I don’t think you’re supposed to drink with the meds you’re on.”

“Ah, Jesus,” he grumbled. “Here we go.” He slipped one hand behind his head, propping up, and waved the other in the air. “Come on, lemme have it. I know you’re dyin’ to give me this lecture.”

“Yeah? And what lecture’s that?” I asked.

“I’m ruining my life, I have so much to live for, I need to let things go, need to get help. Take your pick.” He raised his brows, the action deepening a scar on the left side. “Well? I’m waiting.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth and narrowed my eyes. “I ain’t going to lecture you. You’re a grown-ass man. But yeah, getting drunk all the time isn’t gonna help you. And yeah, you need to talk to somebody. But it’s your life, man. Nothin’ I say is gonna make you change your mind about how you wanna live it.” I pushed at his feet and stood, started walking away. I didn’t make it but a couple of steps before I stopped. “Just one thing, though,” I said, looking at him over my shoulder. “Ever consider maybe the reason you claim to hate Paddy so much is because you’re scared you’re like he was?”

Tommy shoved the cat off him and shot to his feet. His shoulders curled in as he stalked toward me, fury coming off him in waves. “The fuck you say to me?”

I squared off with him, crossing my arms even as I fought the urge to back up a step or six. “I didn’t stutter. From what I’ve heard about Paddy when he was a drunk, he was a real piece of work. Broody and angry with a hair-trigger temper. Sound familiar?”

“Yeah? Lemme tell you something.” He crowded closer and his eyes bored into mine, but something flashed behind them. Shame, maybe? His gaze roamed my face, settling on my mouth. “If I was like my pop, you’d be icing that lip right now, Jack. You don’t know who Paddy Conlon was, and you sure as shit don’t know who I am.”

I dropped my arms, indignation leaking out of me like air from a balloon. “Does anybody?”

He jerked a hand through his hair, mouth set sullenly, but then he sighed. “What do you want from me, huh? You want me to—to make a card out of construction paper or something? Hold hands with the old man and sing Kumbaya and forget the hell he put us all through? Forget what he put my mother through?” He shook his head and blinked slowly. “Nah. Fuck that. He wants my forgiveness, he’s gonna have to do something to earn it. But I’m not Brendan, so even then, he won’t get it.”

“It ain’t about him, Tommy,” I said quietly. “It’s about you. All that anger you got bouncin’ around inside, it’s gonna eat you alive.”

“It’s all…” He chewed the inside of his lip before looking away, clenching his jaw. “It’s all I got left,” he said matter-of-factly. He turned and scooped up the bottle of whiskey, gave Stubb an apologetic scratch between his ears, and left the room. The back door clicked shut as he presumably headed to the shed to work on the Triumph.

I plopped onto the couch and patted the cushion beside me, and the cat obliged and jumped up. “Well that pretty much sucked, huh?”

Stubb blinked at me. Judgingly, I felt.

“It’s not like I jumped him,” I defended, scratching his chin. “Everything I said was out of genuine concern. Except the part about his being scared of being like Paddy. That was just because he pissed me off.” I groaned and leaned my head onto the back of the couch. “So what should I do? Apologize?”

The cat sat and began licking himself.

“Ugh. Thanks for the help, ass.”

After about half an hour debating with myself, I pushed up and went out to the shed. As expected, Tommy was crouched next to the bike, fiddling with something that was beyond my comprehension. He’d shucked the faded red Henley he’d been wearing and was sporting another muscle shirt—black this time. He cranked a ratchet, the movement making the tattoos on his shoulders, back, and arms ripple in the most delightful of ways.

But I wasn’t out there to admire that sort of thing, I reminded myself.

“Hey.”

He glanced over without stopping his ratcheting. His expression was guarded but not hostile, so I supposed he’d calmed down some.

I quietly cleared my throat and hopped up onto a work bench, wincing when the rickety table wobbled. “I’m sorry if it seemed—”

“You ain’t gotta keep apologizing to me, you know,” he said, going back to his work. “You say what you think. People don’t do that much.”

“Maybe.” I gently swung my legs, wishing I’d grabbed a long-sleeved shirt. The shed was drafty. “But most of the time that’s probably because it’s rude to say whatever you think without considering how it affects people. Tact, I think my mom calls it, when she explains how I lack it.” I gave him a small smile when looked back at me.

His lips twitched upward and he put his tools aside, picking up a rag and wiping grease from his hands. He jerked his chin. “Come here.”

I slipped from the table, tucking my arms close to my body as a breeze blew through. Tommy stood and flipped some caps, then waved me closer and put a hand on my back. I shivered.

“Cold?” He didn’t wait for an answer before passing me the discarded Henley and guiding me to the handlebars.

Not wanting to give away that it wasn’t necessarily the cool breeze that had made me shiver, I tugged the shirt over my head. “Okay, so what’s this about? What am I doing?”

He sucked his lips in as he adjusted some gauges. “All right. This is fuel line, clutch, throttle, ignition,” he said, pointing to random toggles. Ignition I knew, mostly because of the key sticking out of it. “Get on.”

I stepped back. “No, thanks. I’m cool.”

“I’m gonna tighten some couplings, and when I tell you, I want you to turn this—” He pointed again. “—and then turn the key, right? Then step onto this—this is the kickstart lever—and then I want you to hop on it. To do that, I need you to straddle the bike.”

“Hop on it,” I repeated, looking at the angled metal rod. “And so then do I just…?”

He gave a half smile. “You just hop on it and let it go.”

“Okay. Sure.”

“If I got everything done right, should turn over just fine. Keep your thumb here. I’ll have to make a couple adjustments.”

“Mm-hm. Okay. So…” I threw a leg over the seat and reached over the fuel tank. “This?”

He wrapped a hand around my wrist and drew my fingers to the right switch. “This, then the key. When I say.”

“All right. Got it. Wait!” I stopped him when he started to crouch again. “Like, it’s not goin’ to go anywhere, right?”

A grin this time. “Nah.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath when he knelt by my leg and began twisting the bike’s innards. I really didn’t want to be responsible for breaking this thing.

“All right, Jack.” His attention was fixed on the engine, not me. I turned the key as instructed and hopped on the kickstarter. Nothing happened. Tommy frowned at his work, then reached forward and twisted something else. “Okay, go again.”

The bike started and Tommy stood, adjusted a few more things. He smiled again and made a cut motion with his hand. I moved my thumb and turned off the key. He held the motorcycle steady while I dismounted.

“She’s good to go.”

“Where’d you learn to do this kind of stuff?” I asked, curling my fingers into the sleeves of the shirt I’d borrowed. Tempers had cooled, and so had the temperature.

He shrugged. “Here and there. Me and Brendan worked on this thing all the time when we were kids. Everything else I picked up after I joined the Corps.”

“Well consider me impressed. I can barely check the oil in my little Nissan. It’s why I don’t ever drive anywhere myself unless I’m going down to see my folks. I never had a head for mechanics, no matter how much my daddy tried to teach me.”

He wiped his hands again and canted his head. “Cars, motorcycles, trucks…those are easy. Something inside’s broke, you just take it out and put a new one in. Done. All that time of hard riding or neglect, erased.” He cut his eyes at me, a smirk still playing at the edges of his lips. “Not everything’s simple as that though.”

Wow. Subtle.

He covered the motorcycle with a tarp and gestured toward the door. I left the shed with him and we walked up the back stoop together.

“It’s getting late,” I said as we went into the house. “I guess I’d better start gettin’ my clothes and stuff together so I don’t have to do it tomorrow.”

“Finally getting your own place back, hm?” He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table.

I nodded. “Pretty excited, actually. Four years living alone, a girl gets used to walking around naked—and I probably shouldn’t have said that because that’s a fairly awkward thing to just throw out there.” I could literally feel the blush creeping up my neck onto my cheeks.

To his credit, Tommy didn’t comment. But there was a mischievous glint in his eye that I’d never seen, like he was absolutely itching to say something. He took a slow drink of coffee, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

“Um, so I’ll see you in the morning before I leave for work,” I said quickly.

“Yeah, I’ll probably be up.”

Why had his voice hesitated? Was he using a double entendre to tease me over outing myself about naked-time? After objectifying the man while he’d done manly mechanic things—and undergoing an ovarian maelstrom, because dammit, a knowledgeable man working with his hands gets me every time—I decided to salvage my dignity and go to bed. “G’night, Tommy.”

He stirred a teaspoon of sugar into his coffee and stuck the spoon in his mouth before setting it aside. “Night.”

I made it to my room safe and sound and still super fucking celibate, so I guess that’s good. I packed everything except the clothes I’d need the next morning, brushed my teeth, and changed for bed. Except I’d packed everything. I couldn’t sleep in the button-down I’d worn that day. I looked at my suitcases stacked neatly in the corner where I could retrieve them tomorrow, and I shook my head.

Screw it.

Tommy’s shirt smelled like cigarettes and whatever cologne he used, and maybe a little bit of whiskey, but it also was soft and longish and smelled like cigarettes and whatever cologne he—no! That wasn’t important. What was important was that it was nightgown-length and didn’t require me to get back into my suitcases. Everything else was random happenstance and inconsequential.

I’d stripped down to my panties and pulled the shirt back over my head when a knock sounded. I bounded to the door. “Yeah?” Why was my voice so breathy? _Get a hold of yourself, idiot!_ I cracked the door open and peered at Tommy with wide eyes.

“Oh. I was just gonna see if you were done with that and I’d toss it in the wash,” he said, pointing at the shirt. “But it’s fine.”

“You sure? I’d hate to inconvenience you.”

He made a sound that was half scoff, half chuckle, and grinned. “Oh yeah? Since when?”

“Ha.” I chewed my lip and nervously bounced on the balls of my feet, then remembered I’d taken off my bra. I quickly crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’m gonna…” He jerked his head. “G’night, Jack.”

“Night, Tommy.”

I shut the door and walked to the bed, falling across it and burying my face in the pillow to stifle the agonized groan I let go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack moves back to her house. Tommy brings pizza. Jack gets a dog.

Home sweet home!

I’d spent the afternoon after work cleaning, getting dust and debris from the vent work off tables, shelves, and floors. Then I unpacked, loaded the laundry, and put clean sheets on my bed, and had changed into an oversized t-shirt and the most comfortable pair of flannel pj bottoms I owned.

It didn’t take long to remember how boring most nights at my house actually were.

I was stretched out on my loveseat channel surfing and talking to my mom on my cellphone when the doorbell buzzed. “Hang on, Mama. Somebody’s at the door.”

“Are you expecting company?” Mom asked.

TV forgotten, I padded to the foyer in bare feet. “Well, no. People don’t really just drop by up here.”

“Check the peephole first,” she said. “Your dad was watching a murder documentary just the other day about women getting killed because they didn’t check the peephole.”

“You really gotta get him out of the house soon,” I said, but I checked the peephole. “Oh, crap.” Tommy Conlon stood on my front stoop.

“What?” Mom asked. “What is it?”

“It’s Tommy.”

“The son of the guy from your parish that you were house-sitting for? I thought you liked him.” Mom sounded confused.

“I do.”

“Then why are you whispering?”

“Because he’s—” The bell buzzed again. “—right outside.”

“Why aren’t you letting him in? Are you wearing clothes?”

“Yes, Mom. I’m wearing clothes.” I pressed my eye to the peephole again. “It’s just…he’s not really the type to just drop by for a chat. What’s he doing here?”

Mom sighed. “Jack, let the boy in and ask him! Good gracious, you’ve turned paranoid.”

Outside, Tommy turned away, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket as he started down the stoop. I jerked the door open.

“Hey!” I called. “How are you? What’s up? Nice night for a walk, huh?”

On the phone, Mom groaned. “Lord, he’s gonna think you’re on speed.”

But Tommy just stopped on the bottom step and leaned against the banister, crossing his ankles. “Didn’t think you were home.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. I was on the phone, didn’t hear the bell.”

Mom laughed. “You’re a dirty liar.” Her end of the phone rustled, and a second later I heard her muffled voice. “Jerry! Get in here! Jackie’s flirtin’ with her neighbor and it’s hilarious!”

“I can still hear you, ya know,” I hissed, throwing a smile at Tommy. “My mom,” I whispered to him, rolling my eyes.

He came back up the steps, filling my tiny porch. The space between us closed and the strings of his hoodie brushed the front of my t-shirt as he stretched an arm past me. If I hadn’t had a death-grip on my phone, knowing my mother was listening in, I would’ve thought I was about to enter another dream sequence. _Hark, is that the sounds of saxophones on the breeze?_

But Tommy reached around me to the small table I kept by the door and lifted a pizza box I hadn’t noticed. “Brought dinner, case you hadn’t eaten yet.”

Mom cooed. “Oh, Jack, he sounds nice. What’d he bring?” she asked. “Don’t eat it if it’s spicy. You don’t want another Christmas ’99 while he’s there.”

“Thanks,” I told him, ignoring my mom’s commentary. “You wanna come inside?”

“Honey,” Mom said with a tsk. “You’re supposed to wait for the honeymoon to ask that.” She cackled loudly.

“Mother!” She’d surprised a laugh out of me, but my cheeks heated. “I’m hanging up. Love you, bye.” I took the pizza from Tommy and opened the door. “Make yourself comfortable,” I said with a wave toward the sofa.

He wiped his boots and unzipped his hoodie before entering. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. I like it. It’s got character.” I tossed my cell onto the corner desk. “Want something to drink? I made some sweet tea.”

“Sure.”

I went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of tea that could practically double as pancake syrup. “So what brings you to my doorstep?”

He shrugged and accepted the glass I handed him, took a tentative sip. “Took the bike out earlier, remembered you saying something about liking good pie. Ever had Cerasoli?”

I shook my head. “Never made it around to it. There was a pizza-related incident when I first moved here that led to pretty much everybody in the bar at Roarke’s yelling at each other, so I just order delivery from Wiseguys. Apparently you people take your pizza _very_ seriously.”

He scratched at his beard, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, it gets brutal sometimes.”

I opened the box and struggled to remember my decorum. “Holy crap. That looks awesome.” I pulled a slice from the circle, then passed the box to him. “God,” I said around a mouthful of cheesy goodness. “This is friggin’ fantastic.”

He selected a piece and set the box on the couch between us. “What’s on?” he asked, nodding toward the TV, where a toilet paper commercial played a catchy jingle.

“I dunno. I was just clicking around. The remote’s beside you if you want to find something.”

I grabbed another slice of pizza and took a hearty bite. He left the channel where it was, and a few minutes later a new movie started. We sat in comfortable silence, settled in with pizza and mindless entertainment. The pizza was gone much too soon, in my opinion, but the movie was good—some ‘90s comedy I’d seen a million times. And since it was familiar and I had carbo-loaded, it wasn’t long before I got sleepy.

“Jack. Hey.”

At some point, I’d gone from droopy-eyed on my side of the couch to full-out sleeping with my head resting on his thigh. I blinked owlishly up at him, my sleepy brain trying to reconcile why Tommy was softly shaking me awake.

He brushed a lock of hair from my forehead. “You with me?”

“Mm-hm,” I grunted, closing my eyes again.

“It’s late. I’m gonna go. Want me to lock up?”

“Mm-hm.”

He breathed a little laugh, then gently lifted my head off his leg and slipped out from under. I rolled onto my side and watched through half-lidded eyes as he grabbed a throw from the back of the couch and draped it over me. He crouched to tuck it around my shoulders, and I leaned up and kissed him. I snuggled down into my blanket with a contented sigh, and a few seconds later the front door shut as Tommy left.

And it was then that the beacon of lucidity pierced through the fog of sleep and I realized that oh my god, I had _kissed him_.

\--

Why do weather forecasters even attempt to prepare people for daily weather? I trudged home in the pouring rain because the orange-toned meteorologist had assured me and the rest of the Burgh that umbrellas and rainboots wouldn’t be needed today.

Filthy, rotten liar.

Halfway through the four blocks home, I picked up a companion. A grubby mutt puppy fell into step beside me, trotting happily through the deluge and throwing me the occasional puppy grin.

“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t look at me like that. I can’t take you home.” I stopped and waved my hands, hating myself a little bit. “Shoo!”

The pup sat and waited, shivering in the cold rain.

“I _cannot_ take you home,” I said again. “Believe me, I would. But I can’t.”

She rolled over onto her side, feet up, and looked at me expectantly. With a groan, I squatted down and gave an obligatory scratch. The rain picked up even more, and I stood. So did the puppy.

“Fine. But when we’re both living on the street because my landlord evicts us, don’t blame me.”

I picked the pup up, and since my clothes were soaked anyway, I stuffed her into my hoodie, zipping up so her head stuck out like one of those baby carriers. We had to cross a few intersections, and I didn’t want her to lag behind. It wasn’t long before she’d tucked herself completely in, leeching my body heat.

We turned onto my street. I hugged the puppy tight and jogged across the lane, waving to Mrs. Karanski when she beeped her horn. I took the steps two at a time and pounded on Tommy’s door. He answered a minute later, brows drawing together as he took in my appearance.

“The hell you doing out in this? Get in.” He led me inside, disappearing down the hall, and returned with a thick towel. “Get warmed up.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Forecast said cool and mostly cloudy, but no rain. The diner was packed all day ‘cause of the rain that wasn’t supposed to happen, and I swear everybody who came in was hacking like they had TB.” I squeezed my hair with the towel and scrubbed my face. “Luckily, I never get sick.”

“Famous last words,” he muttered. “Jack, you, uh…” Tommy unzipped my hoodie and removed the squirming pup. “You got a hitchhiker. Hey, buddy,” he said, stroking the dog’s head.

“I know,” I sighed. “I’m a sucker. But I mean, how cute is that face? I couldn’t just leave it in the rain.” I used the towel to ruffle some of the water from the pup’s fur. “I’m gonna give her a bath when I get home. I actually came by to see if I could get a cup of Stubb’s food to last ‘til morning. I’m off tomorrow, so I can go to that store across the bridge to get dog stuff.”

“Sure, yeah,” Tommy said. He hitched the pup in his arms, patting her back reassuringly as he led the way to the kitchen. “Got a name yet?”

“Hadn’t thought about it,” I admitted. “I’m pretty horrible at naming animals.”

The pup reached up and licked his cheek, and he laughed. “You one of those people who names dogs Spot or Rover?”

“No.” I smiled as he wrestled the puppy. “Other direction, actually. Johnnie and Glen’s dogs were always named stuff like Blue and Hank. But I had Mrs. Winterbourne and Bombadil. I can’t name animals normal pet names.”

He laughed again as the pup attacked the sleeve of his t-shirt. “So pick something in the middle.” He wiggled his finger and the puppy chewed on it, grunting and growling playfully. “Look at you, ya little fighter.”

“How ‘bout Murphy?”

“Murphy?” He shot me a crooked grin. “You know it’s a girl, right?”

“Huh. I was wondering about the lack of penis. Glad you cleared that up.” I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Thomas, I am aware. But my name’s Jack, hello, so I would have no regrets about naming her Murphy.”

Tommy turned his lips down thoughtfully, canted his head side to side. “Eh. That works.”

I almost teased him about feeling the need to approve the name for my dog, but it was just so darn cute watching this big, tough brawler getting happily wallowed and slobbered by a little street pup. So instead, I got a Ziploc bag and filled it with cat food, filched one of Stubb’s toys—to be replaced tomorrow—and fixed myself a cup of coffee.

“You goin’ to the gym tomorrow?” I asked, sitting at the table.

Tommy shrugged. “Gotta go to a meeting first thing. Figured I might go put in some applications on Southside.”

“What kinda meeting?”

He cut his eyes at me, then looked back to Murphy and rubbed the puppy’s ear. “Conditional of my probation. Brendan pulled some strings, kept my ass outta jail after the Corps discharged me. So now I go twice a week to some group bullshit and listen to people whine about how hard life is.”

“Fun.”

“Here, before I forget.” He cradled Murphy in the crook of one elbow and moved to the refrigerator. He set a bottle of orange juice in front of me. “Take that when you go. Boost your immune system, maybe, and you won’t get sick.”

“I don’t get sick,” I said. “Walking in the rain doesn’t make you sick. That’s an old wives’ tale.”

“Yeah, I know, doc. But cold lowers your immunities and being wet don’t help. Just take the damn juice, all right?”

“Okay. Thank you.” I sneezed, sloshing hot coffee onto my hand. He sat opposite me, arched a knowing brow. “What? No, that’s…that was complete coincidence. I don’t get sick.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I don’t. I haven’t even had a sniffle in like…” I figured it up. “Like two years. I’m fine.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out. Tommy's drunk. Jack's pissed. They fight. Angry, mind-melting sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: while the eventual angry smut in this chapter is 100% consensual, it does start off as a fight. If you don't approve of manhandling and occasional kicks, skip ahead.

I survived the harrowing biological attack that the patrons of the diner had subjected me to thanks to copious amounts of Nyquil and sleep. Now it was Friday, and I’d been cooped up in my house for far too long without social interaction. No more chick flicks with Murph, no more confusing flirtations with my equally confusing neighbor. I was going out.

Roarke’s was a little dive bar a few blocks over that boasted pool tables and a jukebox. A lot of the locals went there for drinks after work, and being Friday, the crowd would likely be thicker than usual.

I spent an hour getting ready—picking out some good “going out” clothes, doing my makeup and paying close attention to concealing the yellowing bruise that streaked my chin from my bout with the staircase. Even styled my hair. All so that I might enjoy a few hours of carnal pleasure.

“I _better_ enjoy a few hours of carnal pleasure,” I muttered, fixing my eyeliner for the third time. “This getting dolled up crap is for the birds.”

At my side, Murphy yawned, then went in search of something more entertaining than watching me struggle with cosmetics. With one last glance and a heartfelt air-kiss at my reflection, I flounced out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

As I stepped out into the chilly evening, I immediately regretted my fashion choice. I mean honestly, what was I thinking wearing a dang mini dress? Whether I was wearing over-the-knee boots was beside the point, because the wind blew past their silver buckles and right on up my Downstairs. I zipped my red leather jacket and picked up the pace, my heels click-clacking on the sidewalk.

Roarke’s had never felt so welcoming. I squeezed through the door into the warm pub and smiled at familiar faces, regulars who ate at the diner. A few called out greetings and I waved. I unzipped my jacket and ordered a beer. Drink in hand, I scanned the room for an empty chair, but froze when my gaze hit the pool tables.

Tommy was there—which was no great surprise, really—but the thing that had my brows lowering and eyes narrowing was the bimbo hanging off his shoulder. She was dressed even more impractically than I was, with a backless sequined top that stopped around her navel—her _pierced_ navel—and a pair of shiny pants with occasional diamond cut-outs running a line from hip to ankle. I know I got all gussied up because I wanted to enjoy a night out, but come on. This woman looked more suited for a bass-pulsing rave club than a quiet little local in Northside.

I took a drink of my beer and headed for the table, ignoring the voice in my head that told me to steer clear. Tommy took a shot, sank a ball, and lined up his next. The girl leaned down to whisper in his ear and he looked back at her with a crooked grin, took the shot without looking, and sank another ball. The man he’d been playing paid up, and Tommy downed the rest of his drink and motioned to a passing waitress for another.

“Howdy, neighbor,” I said. “Care for a game?”

“Jack! What’re you doing out of your house? It’s after dark.” He winked and took a drink of a beer. I cringed, hoping the bottle was his. He rolled the sleeves of the blue button-down he wore up to the elbows, squinting over at me. “You usually turn into a pumpkin by now don’t you?”

Okay, maybe I wasn’t incredibly outgoing, but I liked relaxing, dammit. Still, because I’m adult, I let the comment slide. “Just thought I’d get out for a while.”

The redhead leaned over and said something in his ear again. Poor child must have social anxiety, what with not being to speak in front of more than one person and all. Of course, the way she grabbed a handful of Tommy’s ass as she whispered to him made me think that probably wasn’t the case.

“So? Game?” Wow, was that me barking questions?

“Yeah, sure,” Tommy said. The waitress brought his fresh drink and he sipped it before tossing me a cue and racking the table. “I’ll give you first shot.”

“How chivalrous.” I broke, sinking a solid in each corner. I moved around the table to set up the next shot, which had me leaning over a little further. Air kissed the backs of my thighs as my skirt rose a fraction higher.

“Little breezy in here, isn’t it?” Tommy asked.

The ball banked and I glanced back at him with a frown, tugging my skirt down self-consciously. “Your shot.”

“I mean, I’m just sayin’.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t make sense, you bitchin’ about being cold all the time and going out in that.”

“Cram it, Tommy. Take your shot.” I leaned against the table and scowled while he sank three balls. His cue glanced off the fourth and he cursed, went back to his drink. His arm-candy reclaimed her position.

“You guys know each other, huh?” she asked.

“Not really,” Tommy said, eyes boring into me. “Neighbors.”

Neighbors, nothing else. Like we hadn’t been roommates for couple weeks. Like he hadn’t played nursemaid a few nights ago and we didn’t practically share a dog. He didn’t even say friends. Just neighbors.

Well eff you too, Conlon.

I sank the rest of my balls, and as I lined up for the eight-ball, I rolled my eyes up to meet his. And, because I was feeling particularly sassy and more than a little pissed off, I leaned over the table and suggestively stroked the pool cue as I took the shot. His eyes narrowed and his jaw flexed as the ball clunked into the pocket, and I straightened. I didn’t tug my skirt down, nor did I look to see how much boobage was peeking out of the dress’s hook-and-eye corset top. I simply rounded the table, held out my hand, and accepted my twenty bucks before pasting on a cool smile.

“Aw, there goes those drinks,” I said. “Darn it.”

His eye twitched and his lips thinned, a sure sign of temper. I hung the pool cue up and walked away without a look back. If Tommy Conlon was too big of an asshat to acknowledge what I’d thought was a friendship, then it was no skin off my nose.

I found a seat at the bar, delighted to see a friendly face. Evan, a regular customer at the diner, sat a few stools down. He’d been one of my first patrons when I’d moved to the Burgh, and he came in every morning during the work week. Over time, we’d gotten pretty friendly. He spotted me, lifted his glass in hello. Gave up his seat to come stand beside me.

“Heya, Jack.”

“Hey, Evan. How are you?”

“Eh. Can’t complain. Gracie’s got the girls at home watching some kinda cartoon so she let me out of the house a while.” He looked around. “You here with somebody?”

My eyes strayed to the pool tables, lingering on Tommy. He glanced up from taking a shot, looking right at me, and his expression tightened even more. “Nope,” I said, turning my attention back to Evan. “Just wanted to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, Connie said you was sick. That cold’s been going around, ya know? Glad you’re feeling better. Buy you another beer?”

“Sure.” I smiled. I genuinely liked Evan. He was smart, handsome, and incredibly nice. He was also incredibly married, and happily so, so that took a lot of the pressure off our being friends. “So how’s things been? How do the girls like school this year?”

And so it went, laughing and talking with Evan for the next few hours. Yes, I kept tabs on Tommy as he slugged drink after drink and his black-clad vixen rubbed against him. That child clearly needed Jesus. And no, it didn’t look like he was keeping tabs on me, which really chapped my ass for some reason.

“Evan, I’ve really enjoyed it, but I think it’s time for this old bag of bones to retire for the night.” I slid from my stool and put on my jacket, zipping it to my chin.

“Me too. I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Eh, it’s on my way. If Gracie’d come out, I definitely wouldn’t want her walking home this late by herself. Lemme get my coat.”

I waited for him, tucking my hands into my jacket pockets and stealing one more look at Tommy. He’d retired from the tables and was sitting in a booth in the corner. I couldn’t see his lady shadow, so she must’ve gone to the toilet. Must be nice to have someone not related to you to care whether or not you walked home late. _Hello, bitterness. It’s been a while_.

“Ready?”

I nodded at Evan with a friendly smile and headed for the door. We chatted on the short walk home, he telling me about his daughters’ pets and me talking about Murph. When we made it to my little gate, I thanked him for walking me home.

“You want those movies?” I asked. He’d told me how Kelly and Tiff were into ‘retro’ movies now, which meant _The Goonies_ and other standbys from my day that I had in my DVD collection. He’d admitted that he had never seen _The Goonies, _and I immediately chastised him as only a rabid pop culture fan could.

“Yeah! That’d be great, Jack. Thanks.”

He followed me up the sidewalk, closing the gate after him. I opened the door and let Murph out so he could do her business and run off a little energy that had no doubt built up being home alone.

I ushered Evan to the living room and retrieved a glass of water in case he was thirsty, even though he was only going to be there five minutes—the curse of Southern Hospitality.

“Have a seat,” I called as I headed to my bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”

All of my go-to movies were still in disarray from my recovery time, strewn around on my dresser. It took a minute to match disks with cases, but I eventually gathered a nice stack of DVDs to share with the next generation.

I also took time to sprawl across my bed and unzip my boots, because Christ on a cracker, high heels _sucked_. I chucked the offending footwear into a corner and hoped to never hear from them again.

I hurried down the stairs, calling out to Evan as I went. “Okay, pal. Prepare to have your entire universe changed forever. When you see what I got, you’ll—Tommy? What’re you doing here?”

Tommy stood in my living room, albeit a bit unsteadily, and glared daggers at me as I came around the corner.

He wiped the tip of his nose and sniffed, shrugging his shoulders in apparent agitation. “Seein’ you got home okay.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.” I put the stack of movies on the table by the door. “Evan walked me home. Evan this is Tommy. My _neighbor_.” Was there a touch of resentment in my voice? Perhaps.

“Sure, yeah,” Evan said, standing and offering a hand. “I watched your fight on TV.”

Tommy didn’t even look at the hand, just kept staring down Evan like he was something Murphy might’ve coughed up after eating too much grass. Then he turned that sullen gaze on me.

“This guy? Really?”

“This guy really what?” I asked, taking a few steps toward him. I knew what he thought—I’d seen it the second he’d looked at me with a hint of a sneer. “You mean this guy, the one who’s not swaying like a pine tree in a strong wind because he doesn’t drink like a fish? That guy, you mean?”

“Uh…” Evan looked decidedly uncomfortable, but I was fired up now and there was no stopping it.

“This guy who talked to me like I was capable of intelligent thought? Who didn’t feel the need to criticize my attire with passive-aggressive barbs? Yeah, Tommy. This guy.” I waved a hand toward Evan…who wasn’t there anymore. I looked around. The DVDs were gone and the door was still open. “Sonofabitch.”

“You’re real catch, huh, Jack? Oh, yeah. Real catch, with your fuck-me boots and your ass hanging out all night. And what you got to show for it? Nothin’ but a fucking dog waiting for you at home.”

“Oh, you wanna talk catches?” My hand flew up—my bitch hand, Mom called it—and I waved in his direction. I was now so close I had to tilt my head back a smidge, but I was not intimidated in the least. “I ain’t the one bummin’ around, blamin’ my past and other people for all my problems instead of lookin’ in a fuckin’ mirror and ownin’ up to ‘em once in a while.”

I knew the moment I’d gone too far. Tommy’s eyes went wild, and I swallowed as a tiny thread of wariness wound through my anger. He took a sharp step toward me, leaning down to eye level, and stabbed a finger at my face.

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he hissed, jaw clenched tight. He straightened, shoulders curling in as he invaded my space. “Quiet little mouse, coming in my life and following me around like some kinda sad little puppy lookin’ for somebody to stroke it.”

I moved to the door, jerked it all the way open. “Get the fuck out, Tommy. Go sleep it off.”

His eyes were cold when he widened them and cocked his head to the side. His voice picked up heat. “Don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but I don’t need you to fix me.” He strode to the door, jerked it out of my hand and kicked it closed. Grabbed a handful of the bodice of my dress and hauled me forward, bumping his forehead against mine as he screamed in my face. “You ain’t my old lady, so unless you plan on blowing me, _get the fuck off my dick_!”

I’m not sure how it happened, but the next thing I knew water from the untouched glass I’d given Evan had splashed across Tommy’s face. I got caught in the backsplash, but the cold droplets didn’t slow the swing of my arm. The sound of my palm connecting with the side of his face was like a gunshot following the few seconds of silence the water had bought. Vivid pink bloomed across his jaw, the perfect imprint of my hand.

Tommy went completely still—eerily still. His eyes, usually a stormy gray, darkened as his pupils expanded. I gulped. Oh shit.

He reached out and took my arms in a bruising grip, and I winced, trying to shrug him off.

“Tommy, don’t—”

He cut me off by crushing his mouth to mine in a punishing mockery of a kiss. His tongue pushed past my lips. Whiskey and Tommy and the lightest tang of blood. It should have repulsed me, but instead it ignited something dark deep inside. Something I didn’t know existed in me. I managed to twist one arm out of his grasp and hook it behind his neck, holding him even closer, deepening the kiss. He tangled his free hand in my hair, tightening his fingers close to my scalp.

We stumbled against the bookcase, sending books toppling. A picture clattered to the floor, shards of glass sliding across the living room. He tried to right himself, bumped the desk, and knocked the lamp over. His grip loosened slightly on my bicep and I pulled back, shoving him away.

I brought trembling fingers to swollen lips and struggled to breathe. I had to get away, get some space between me and Tommy before things got even more out of hand. I took a step back, fury still snapping right below the surface but somewhat tempered by confusion…and unexpected arousal.

“Go home, Tommy,” I said hotly. I turned at once and headed for the stairs. If I could make it to my room, my space, then I could—

“The hell you think you’re going?” Tommy asked, drawing my attention. He was stalking toward the staircase, eyes locked on me.

“Away from you,” I called. “You need to get your shit together, Conlon.”

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me!”

I walked a faster down the hallway, not having expected him to give chase. Now nervousness tangled into the emotional tornado whirling inside me.

Strong fingers banded my wrist just as I reached my bedroom door, and Tommy jerked me to a stop. His hand came up, cupping my throat, and he shoved me against the wall. I gripped his wrist with my free hand, but he held me immobile, using his upper body to pin me.

I set my chin and held his glare. “I’m done with this,” I said, struggling fruitlessly. “I ain’t scared of you.”

The hand at my throat tightened a fraction and he brought his face close, rubbing the cheek I’d slapped against mine, his beard prickling my skin and sending goosebumps skittering down my arms. His hand stroked up my neck to curl around my chin, fingers digging into my jaw as he forced my head away. He pressed his mouth against my ear, and I shivered.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” he said. His voice was quiet and deep. Dangerous. “Fuckin’ nuts.”

He leaned around to kiss me again but I turned my head. He tightened his grip on my chin and held me still as his lips closed over mine again. He pulled me away from the wall, snaking one hand around me and crushing my body to his. I shoved at his shoulders even as I returned the kiss, but he was intent. He kicked through my bedroom door and walked me through, half-dragging me toward my bed. His fists curled into the top of the bodice of my dress, and the hook-and-eye fastenings didn’t stand a chance. He yanked the material apart, baring me to the waist, covering my breasts with palms that scorched me even through the strapless push-up I wore.

He broke the kiss and hitched his hands around my hips, lifting me and tossing me onto the mattress with enough force to have my teeth clacking together. I rolled, trying to crawl away, to buy myself enough time to gather at least one thought that didn’t revolve around the feel of his mouth on mine, but he grabbed my ankle and hauled me back. The action made my skirt bunch up over my hips, helped along by my flailing leg as I kicked at his shoulder.

“Tommy!”

“Shhh,” he said.

His eyes were burning now, and not just with rage. He caught my other ankle when my heel connected sharply with his shoulder, and he tugged me even closer. I was trapped, physically and emotionally, caught by the hypnotic intensity of his eyes. He turned his head, caressing the side of my calf with his cheek, before kneeling on the edge of the bed. His hands followed, stroking up my legs and parting them so that he could crawl up onto the bed.

My legs tightened reflexively, and his fingers roughly curled at the back of my knees, holding them still. “Uh-uh,” he grunted, shaking his head. Then he turned his face into the soft skin of my thigh, opened his mouth wide, and sank his teeth into my skin.

I shrieked, outraged by the streak of pain, shocked by the waves of pleasure. My hips arched and I dug my heels into the mattress, leveraging up. Maybe to throw him off, maybe to encourage him to draw closer. At that point, I wasn’t sure what I was doing. Every single cell in my body was focused on what _he_ was doing.

Tommy made a sound that sounded like he was in pain, but his expression was clear when he lifted his head and looked at me. A smirk curved the corners of his lips, and he ran the tip of his tongue over the edge of his teeth.

“You like it hard, huh?” he growled. He grinned with just a hint of malice, crinkling his nose as he nodded. “Yeah, it’s always the quiet ones who want it bad.”

“I don’t know if—” My breath hitched when he stroked the pad of his thumb over the bite mark. I closed my eyes and breathed my question. “Should we do this right now?”

In answer, he bunched my underwear in his fists, ripping one side and then the other. Fuck a duck, so much aggression. It was chaotic and thrilling and so unlike anything I’d ever experienced. This was passion at its darkest, most base level. And I would die if it ended.

Without preamble, Tommy jerked the scraps of underwear away and buried his face against my body. My fingers wound into his hair, gripping tightly, holding on for dear life as he attacked my flesh with lips and tongue and teeth. He sucked hard and my back bowed as another shout ripped from my throat. I collapsed back to the bed and wound my legs around his shoulders, heels pressing him harder against me.

I babbled nonsensical things, whispered curses like prayers. Tommy hitched his arms beneath my hips, lifting me closer as he speared me with his tongue, and I came undone. I screamed his name and my arms flew out, fists clenching in the soft cotton sheets. I curled in on myself, drawing my knees toward my chest and struggling for breath. My eyes watered as I floated back to the land of coherent thought.

Where had Tommy gone?

I opened my eyes to see him unbuttoning his shirt, his expression sharp and focused. The necklace he wore—a Saint Michael medallion his mother had given him when he’d joined the Marines—jingled as he worked with jerky movements, as if he was having a tough time getting his fingers to work. He started working on his belt buckle next.

“You can take it off or I can take it off,” he said darkly, nodding at the ruined remains of my dress. “But one way or another, you’re getting rid of it. _Now_.”

I pushed myself up to sitting and grabbed the hem of my skirt—which had rolled its way up to my breasts amidst all my writhing—and pulled it over my head, then reached back and unfastened my bra. I threw it in the direction I’d thrown my dress and went up to my knees in time to wrap my arms around Tommy’s shoulders and catch him up in another scorching kiss.

He tried to shove me onto my back, but I had more leverage on the bed and I pivoted, crashing him to the mattress and straddling him. I cupped the sides of his neck, then slid my hands down his shoulders and gripped his biceps. I wasn’t dumb enough to think he couldn’t displace me if he wanted, but he let me pin him and I held fast. I moved my lips over the number tattooed right below his clavicle. His fingers tangled in my hair as I moved down, scattering little nipping kisses over his torso. My tongue traced the USMC logo tattooed on his ribs, and I scraped my teeth over it, pinching the skin hard enough to have him flinching beneath me. His hand tightened on my hair and he breathed a curse.

I kept up my exploration, moving even lower, licking at the scrolling letters that decorated his lower stomach and leaning over to bite at the murder of crows that lined the curve of his hip. He hauled me up by my hair, making me grunt in pain, but he swallowed it as he stroked my tongue with his.

He rolled, fingers still tied in my hair, and I planted my feet on either side of his hips. I could feel him, hot and hard, straining against me. He arched his hips ever so slightly, slipped into the warmth of my body, teasing me with his own heat. I tore at him and managed to shove him away enough to get out from under his kiss, enough that I could fasten my mouth to the hollow between his neck and shoulder and draw deep, sucking a dark lovebite to the surface. I felt primal, far beyond social graces. Let the bitch in the backless shirt see that mark next time he went to Roarke’s and she’d know I’d stake my claim. And god help her or anybody else who tried to get in the middle of it.

Tommy yanked my hair again, breaking the seal of my mouth, and dipped his head to feast at my throat. He shifted, dropped a hand and cupped my breast, lifting it to his mouth. He pulled my nipple between his lips, swirled his tongue over the tip. My fingers curled into claws, digging in like a cat, when he used his teeth.

“Ah! Fuck!”

He reared back and pulled out of the shelter of my arms, gripped my wrists and pinned them over my head with one hand. Moved the other to my other breast. Repeated the deliciously harsh treatment. My legs went around his waist, locking at the ankles, and I arched against him, begging with my body.

“Say what you want,” he said, fingers tightening around my wrists. He looked at me, smoky gray irises blacked out by blown pupils. He touched the tip of his tongue to his top lip, lifted his chin. Rubbed himself against me, drawing a groan. “Fuckin’ tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Please, please,” I chanted. “Tommy, I want—I need—fuck! Please!”

His grin was dangerous, full of dark promises, and he shifted over me, releasing my wrists and gripping my hips, dragging me to where he wanted me. He propped up on one hand and hooked his other arm beneath my knee, opening me wider. I curled my fingers around the bars on my headboard and clenched my teeth as he plunged into me. There was no slow invasion, no inching forward to let my body adjust. He just kicked my ass into the deep end of the pool without a lifeguard on duty, and I could sink or swim. This was a claiming of his own. Possession, pure and simple, and I clung to him and rode it out with everything I had in me.

He stirred his hips, ripping an animalistic whine from me. My breasts ached from rocking so hard, but the way he watched them, kissed at them, was enough to have even more moisture pooling between my thighs. I could feel an orgasm building, and the stirrings hadn’t even started good before I crested and it ripped through me.

My body locked, arms and legs tightening. I’d released the headboard at some point and dug my nails into Tommy’s deltoids, and as I came, I felt blood slick my fingertips. His name tore from my throat with such force that I went hoarse and lost my breath for a second. Tears streamed down my cheeks as my body quaked and trembled with the force of the release, and a moment later, Tommy followed. He collapsed on top of me, breath fanning against my neck. I leaned up and kissed him smartly on the mouth, giving his tongue a lazy draw before falling back to the mattress. He rolled off me and we both tried to calm our racing breaths and hearts.

Neither of us spoke. Exhaustion—mental and physical—took hold of me. I cut my eyes at him, but he’d dropped an arm over his eyes. My last thought before sleep claimed me was that Tommy Conlon was as beautiful as he was broken.

\--


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has the flu. Tommy is a precious bean.

I stared at my bedroom ceiling.

This was it. The end. I was dying.

And whoever the hell was at the front door could just ring the bell until the neighbors noticed the stink of my rotting body, because I was not getting out of bed again. _Ever_.

I’d already gotten up to let Murphy out and had dragged myself down to the sidewalk to make sure the gate was latched. I’d tripped coming back up the stairs and had banged up my knees and clunked my chin. But I’d finally made it back to my bed. Here I had fallen, and here would I be buried.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, but only managed a piggish snort. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, my throat felt like I’d swallowed a cheese grater, and my joints felt…well, like I’d tumbled up a flight of stairs.

The front door opened and I pushed myself up, but my fight-or-flight response took second place to the pounding that shot through my skull, and I fell back against my pillow. I heard Murphy’s toenails clicking up the stairs and grunted a moment later when she came bounding into the bed, tail wagging ferociously. I turned my bleary-eyed gaze toward Tommy, who followed more slowly.

“Did you break in my house?” I asked. I cleared my throat and rubbed it, fighting a coughing fit. I lost. When my hacking had subsided, I knew I must look as great as I felt because Tommy was staring, head slightly askew, brows knit. The expression of curious disgust.

“Lady at the diner said you didn’t show up for work today. Thought I’d come by and check in. You look like hell.”

“Ugh. I feel like hell.” I dropped a hand to Murphy’s head and closed my eyes again. “I’m hot but without the blanket I’m cold and I can’t breathe and my throat hurts and I’m miserable.”

“Hm.” Tommy shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it onto the end of the bed. The mattress gave as he sat beside me, and I opened one eye. The backs of his fingers touched my forehead, then his cool palm cupped my cheek. “You’re burning up.”

“Run, Tommy. Save yourself.” I sighed as his fingers trailed around to my chin. He tilted my face away and brushed his thumb over what could only be a hellacious bruise. I winced.

“What’d you do?”

I waved a hand in front of my face. “My equilibrium’s all jacked up. Tumbled up the stairs.”

“Bathroom upstairs or down?”

“What?” I squinted up at him. “Upstairs. Why?”

He didn’t answer, instead leaving me on my deathbed and heading down the hallway. I heard the water come on in the bathtub and then he returned.

“Come on.” He held out a hand to help me out of bed.

I grunted. “No. I don’t care how gross I look, I’m not up to getting a shower. Besides,” I added. “WebMD says I should rest, so—hey!”

The exclamation sent me into another coughing fit and I pawed fruitlessly at my blankets as he yanked them away. Murphy thought this was a great game and began springing from one end of the bed to the other. I fended off a kiss-attack and tried to get her off the bed, with zero success on both fronts.

“Murph, down.” The quiet command rang with authority and the traitorous dog leapt from the bed and took position at Tommy’s side, awaiting her next orders. Tommy looked back at me, assessing my messy hair, crumpled flannel shirt, and bare legs dotted with bruises. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You, up.”

“Fortunately for me, I’m in _my_ house and you have no power here.” I pushed my hair out of my face, inwardly grimacing at the rough, slick texture. I usually shower at night but by the time I’d gotten back from the pet supply yesterday, I hadn’t felt like it. And by now it was well into the afternoon.

I was about to swing my legs over the side of the bed in acquiescence when Tommy took matters into his own hands. Or, more specifically, took me into his own hands.

“Put me down!” I croaked, clinging to his shoulders as he scooped me up. “You’re gonna give yourself a hernia!”

“Relax,” he said, carrying me toward the bathroom.

He used the same quiet, calm tone on me as he had Murphy, and even though it probably should’ve just riled me up that he was being so high-handed, I found myself doing as requested. I was too tired to argue. And, hello, I was being _carried_, which was something that hadn’t happened since I’d been a kid. It was all very dominant chest-thumping Neanderthal behavior, but—sorry feminists—my fevered brain was totally digging it.

He set me on my feet beside the bathtub and bent to test the temperature, then turned off the faucets. “It’s hot, but it’s meant to be. You need to sweat, and the steam’ll help clear your head.”

“I got it from here, thanks,” I said quickly, clutching a white-knuckled grip on my flannel pajama top.

He smirked, gaze moving to my hair again, and then he nodded. “You got any chicken broth?”

“What, you gonna make me chicken noodle?” I asked with a snort. His brow arched. “Wait, seriously? Tommy, you ain’t gotta—”

“It’s impossible for you not to argue with me.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said. He chuckled, and it took a moment to realize why. When I did, I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Make me soup if you feel like you must. But don’t put carrots and celery in it. That’s the food that my food eats. I’ll be down when I get out.”

“I’ll bring it up. Stairs kicked your ass last time,” he said, squeezing between me and the sink. He opened the medicine cabinet, perused the contents. He took out a box of Nyquil that Johnnie had bought when he’d come up to visit in March. “Take two of these. Soak in the bath ‘til the water gets cool, then back to bed.”

“Sir, yes sir. Hey, Tommy?”

He stopped, the door half closed. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t get soft on me, Jack.” He grinned and pulled the door shut.

Don’t get soft on him_. Too little too late for that, I’m afraid._ I sighed and shook my head, then shed my clothes and stepped into the tub.

I barely contained the expletive that threatened to shoot out of my raw throat. The water was really effing hot. I sank down little by little, keeping a death grip on the side of the tub and the shower bar to keep upright, doing Lamaze breathing while my body adjusted to the temp change. Apparently the waterline was tapped into friggin’ Mount Doom.

I finally got submerged and leaned back, pulling the shower curtain closed to contain the steam. I carefully went down to wet my hair, then quickly lathered and rinsed. With that out of the way, I was able to sit back and relax.

Tommy knocked on the door a little while later. Whatever he said was muffled by the wood, but I called an acknowledgement. I was pleased to note that some of the pressure in my head had eased. It was also hotter in the shower than a whorehouse on nickel night. I threw the curtain back and hauled myself up, wincing as my legs screamed in protest. The warm water had felt good on my muscles, but my stairwell battle scars were standing out stark against my skin. I could just imagine what the one on my chin looked like.

I dug out the blow-dryer and plugged it in. Dry, my hair falls in gentle waves to my shoulder blades. Wet, it becomes a knotted mass of wheat and honey curls. I attacked my hair, eventually beating the coils into submission.

I risked a peek in the mirror and wrinkled my nose. The bottom of my chin had a dark purple streak across it that curled over my jaw. I looked like a character from _Punch Out_. I wrapped a towel around me, secured it under my arms. Then I opened the door and padded up the hallway toward my room, stopping short in the doorway.

Tommy sat on my bedroom floor, tossing a squeaky chicken from one hand to the other. Murphy leapt back and forth across Tommy’s outstretched legs, following her target on a merry chase. Tommy glanced up and saw me, the gentle smile that curved his lips slipping a bit.

“I didn’t have a chance to get clothes before I was kidnapped to the bathroom.” I fidgeted with the end of the towel—which didn’t fall as far down onto my thighs as I’d like, now that I had an audience—and sidestepped around the edge of my bed. “Don’t get up,” I said when he started to rise. “Just…ya know…eyes forward and all that.”

I cleared my throat and hurried to my dresser, pulled out a decent pair of panties, and tugged them on. I waffled over the idea of putting on a bra, but decided against it. I was feeling a little better, but let’s not get crazy. I grabbed an old Springsteen shirt I’d stolen from Jamie before I’d moved to Pittsburgh and tugged on a pair of gray sweatpants—also stolen, but from Glen. Once all my important wobbly bits were covered, I crawled onto my bed.

“I was promised a chicken noodle.”

Tommy looked over and nodded toward the little bedside table, where a heavy green metal thermos sat. “Keeps better that way. Ain’t gotta worry about it getting cold if you don’t want it all at once.”

I unscrewed the lid and poured a cup, took a small sip. I’m not a big soup person under normal circumstances, and maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten anything since the day before, but that was the best damn soup I’d ever tasted. “Tommy Conlon, you are a king among men,” I said, tucking into the cup with gusto.

“It’s just soup.” He shifted uncomfortably, whether from my compliment or because his butt was going numb on the hardwood floor, I wasn’t sure.

I finished my cup of soup and had a second helping, idly watching Tommy play with my puppy. Murph finally caught the chicken and a tug-o-war ensued that resulted in a nipped finger and a half-laughed curse. Tommy gathered the rowdy pup close and mooshed on her face, flopped her ears. Then he gently petted and stroked, murmuring softly trying to calm Murphy down.

I screwed the empty lid back onto the thermos and scooted down on the bed. “You know she thinks you’re the boss now, right?”

Tommy stood, bounced his knee to undoubtedly get the blood flowing again. “She’s a good-looking dog. Smart. Got some Irish terrier, I think.” He ran his fingers around his mouth, indicating Murph’s little doggie beard. “Look, I’m gonna go since you seem like you’re feeling a little better. You okay going up and down the stairs?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I mean, you don’t have to go though. If—if you don’t want to, I mean. Not that staying cooped up with the plague is a preferred way of spending your time, but…I mean, you can stay. We can watch a movie or something.”

“You need to get some sleep so you can shake that cold.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

I tucked my legs beneath the blanket and pulled it up to my chin, feeling a little foolish. It wasn’t like I wanted to seduce Tommy while my snotbox was blocked. But I didn’t really want to be alone, either. Time passed too slowly when you’re sick and alone.

Tommy stared at me for a minute, hands tucked in his pockets. He chewed his bottom lip as if thinking and finally breathed a little sigh. He nudged my legs with the back of his hand and I shoved over. He sat on the edge of the bed and bent to untie his shoes, then stretched out on top of the blanket and stacked his hands behind his head. He whistled, and Murphy jumped onto the bed, settling down between Tommy’s body and mine.

“You stayin’?” I asked, looking at him hopefully.

“Ain’t got anywhere to be tonight,” he said. He dropped one hand down to scratch Murphy’s ears and glanced over at me. Our eyes locked, and he reached out to touch my face. “Fever’s gone.”

“Is it?” I breathed. My gaze traveled to his mouth and rested there, and I licked my lips.

His thumb stroked my cheek, and he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear before returning to caress my jaw. I closed my eyes, lips parting on a sigh.

“Go to sleep, Jack. I’m here if you need me.”

I turned onto my side, because I didn’t trust myself not to do something stupid if I kept facing him, sick and gross or not. And, with his heat at my back and Murph curled up on my feet, I fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has regrets.

I woke up when the gray light of impending dawn peeked through the space between my curtains, throwing a blue pall across my bedroom. I rolled over, seeking the warmth of Tommy’s body, but found only cold sheets and Murphy’s cold nose. I opened my eyes fully and pushed up onto my elbows, blinking confusedly as I peered through the gloom. I stroked the pup’s head, murmuring apologies for leaving her outside. She heaved a sigh and licked my hand, then sprawled back out and went back to snoring.

I sat up, wincing at the stiffness in my joints and soreness in…other places. I tugged on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats from a pile in the floor, then slowly headed downstairs, grunting with each step. I had no regrets about what’d happened, although it would have been preferable not to have been screaming at each other in the time leading up to the actual deed. All things considered, though, ending a blood-boiling argument with crazy sex that drained all energy was much better than going to our separate beds alone and stewing for a few days. To me, anyway.

My brows raised as I stepped off the last stair and came into the living room. Tommy had obviously been up for a while. Everything was back in order—the table, shelves, books. He’d even swept up the broken glass from the picture frame. The house around me was silent as the grave.

“Tommy?”

Had he gone home? I wrapped in the heavy sweater I kept hanging behind the door and looked down at Murphy, who at the moment was a blur of jingling hairball with legs. "I take it you wanna go outside," I muttered with no shortage of sarcasm.

I opened the door and was pleasantly surprised to discover Tommy hadn't tucked tail after all. He sat on my front stoop with a cigarette and cup of coffee, shoulders hunched with his elbows on his knees. Murphy whimpered happily and made a beeline for him, as usual, and proceeded to make short work of covering the side of his face with puppy slobber. Tommy absentmindedly rubbed her belly and scratched her ears for a few moments, then she bounded from the porch to take care of business.

“Hey.” Mindful of the neighbors still sleeping on all sides, I kept my voice quiet. When he didn’t respond, I took a seat next to him. “Hey, you okay?”

He sniffed and dropped his hands, fidgeted with his fingertips. Rubbed his palms together. Anything to keep from looking up. His knee bounced with pent-up energy. “Yeah.” 

I didn’t have to be good with people to know that was a lie. In the short while I’d known him, I’d seen Tommy Conlon scale the emotional spectrum. Hell, some days he’d made laps around it. And one thing I’d learned was that he always had some battle going on inside. This? This was different. He seemed…defeated. Empty. 

He said something, but his voice was so quiet I couldn’t make it out. 

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry, Jack.” He looked over at me, tilted his head toward the house. “That…that ain’t me. I ain’t this,” he said, turning his attention back to his hands.

It was my turn to look away then, blinking away the wetness that formed at the thought of Tommy regretting last night. I'd built a nice sized wall around my heart over the years, true, but damned if it didn't hurt to sit there, still in a post-orgasmic daze, while the person who put you there regretted it ever happened. I swallowed, determined to hide my hurt behind yet another stone of protection, and gave a nudge to his knee.

“If it makes you feel any better, that wasn't me, either. I don't usually sleep with someone I'm not committed to,” I said quietly.

Tommy glanced quickly at me and grimaced slightly, then flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground. We watched in silence as Murphy ran over to investigate before deciding it was inedible and therefore not worth her time. 

“That ain't it,” he murmured, still not making eye contact with me. "I mean I ain't _him_."

I closed my eyes, cursing my ignorance. Shit, I hadn’t even thought of how he’d feel about sleeping with me when he sobered up completely. And to throw the argument, the shouting, the roughhousing on top of it? Shit. Of course he’d feel guilty, because he’d seen how such behavior from his dad had affected his mother. 

I wanted to throw my arms around his shoulders and pull him close, but I thought that might have him retreating inward even more. So instead, I took a cigarette from the pack he’d set on the steps and lit it, took a drag, offered it to him. He glanced over and took it, breathing the acrid smoke deep into his lungs before passing the cigarette back to me. 

“The old man used to come in after he got in his cups on the weekend spoilin’ for a fight,” he said after a moment. “Me and Brendan, we’d be doing our own shit, ya know? Trainin’or whatever. If we were home, though, he’d try us first.” He shrugged, shook his head with a frown. “Wouldn’t matter. Ma’d step in how she always did. And the next morning at breakfast, Paddy’d act like nothin’ ever happened, like Ma wasn’t sittin’ there with a busted lip or a new set of bruises. And so would she. And anytime me or Brendan’d tried to get her to leave, she’d make excuses.” 

He looked at me, and there was so many emotions swimming in his eyes that I don’t know how one person could contain them all. “Know what finally made her agree to go? One night something set him off and after he’d passed out, while Ma was icing her cheek, Brendan told her the next time it happened, he’d make him sorry. I backed him up.” He paused and took the cigarette back, exhaled a stream of blue smoke. “I remember that moment, ya know. She looked at both of us, but her eyes stayed on me longer. I don’t know what she was thinkin’ but I can take a guess—of the two of us, Brendan and me, I was most like Paddy. She knew Brendan’d probably cave, try harder to keep the peace instead of dealin’ retribution. But I wouldn’t.” He stubbed the cigarette on the step beside him. “She told us next morning we were gonna bail, the three of us.”

“You aren’t like he was.” I reached out and put a hand on his back. “Last night…well, I know things got a little…intense, but—”

“Intense?” he repeated, squinting over at me. “Jack, look at you.” He twisted, tenderly taking my arm and stretching it out. He gently pushed my sleeve up, revealing a series of tiny bruises dotting my skin. “That ain’t being intense, it’s assault.”

I stiffened and pulled away slowly, pulling my sleeve down to cover the marks as well as his guilt. “I don't think that, and I don't think you really do, either. If you did, you wouldn't still be here. You would have run. Disappeared. Found someone to pick a fight with and let them beat you senseless for penance.”

Tommy still refused to look at me. I stood and pulled the collar of his shirt to one side, revealing a bite mark I’d left. “Hey.” I waited until he looked at me before continuing. “It's not like I didn't give as good as I got,” I said as I bent to place a soft kiss on the bruise.

Tommy gently pulled away and re-adjusted his shirt, looking away once again. His jaw clenched and unclenched, his hands fisted so tightly they were white-knuckled. My thoughts turned to last night, and the way those same hands brought so much pleasure to my body. I shivered in remembrance.

“Look, Tommy, I wasn’t weak and I wasn’t unwilling. Last night was one of the best nights of my life, sexually speaking. Yes, I was pissed when you showed up and basically accused me of being a whore,” I conceded, “but what happened between us after that, I’m not sorry for it. At all. Not one bit.” I took his chin in my hand, urged him to meet my eyes. “Despite all of the bruises, love bites, whatever...the only thing that hurts me is your regret.”

I stood there for a few moments more as we both contemplated the future in relation to the past. Not knowing what else to say to alleviate Tommy's guilt, I stepped around him and whistled for Murphy to come inside. 

“I can’t be like this, Jack.” I looked back to see that Tommy had stood and turned his profile to me, though he still stared intently at something in the Karanskis’ yard.

“Then don't be, Tommy. Nobody can change you but you.” A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye. I caught it with the tip of my thumb and swiped it away. “But you aren’t alone. I’m here, ya know?”

He cut his eyes at me, a small line creasing between his brows. “I don’t think I want you to be,” he said.

Oh, so that’s what people mean when they say words can cut like a knife. I was careful to keep my expression neutral, but my throat was tight, a telltale sign tears wouldn’t be long coming.

Tommy sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and took a deep breath. “I ain’t in a good place to be with anybody, Jack. And you…you’re not so desperate you gotta wait around for me to get my shit together.”

I considered my next words carefully, was even more careful to keep my voice from betraying the feelings that weren’t just hurt, but bleeding out on a metaphorical sidewalk. “Do you know why Paddy got sober after all those years?”

“I don’t care—”

“Because,” I interrupted. “He lost everything he ever cared about. Everyone he ever loved. Drove ‘em away—you and your mom, your brother and his kids. That’s what it took for him to turn himself around.” 

“He comes home Monday.”

“I know.”

“Don’t know I’ll be around after that. If I ain’t…” He shrugged, tucked one hand in his pocket and lifted the other to brush a lock of hair out of my face. He tried for a small smile and offered the hand for a polite shake. “Wasn’t a bad gig having you for a neighbor, Jack.”

“Yeah.” I scoffed quietly, returned the handshake. “You either. I’ll see you around, Tommy.”

He nodded. “Maybe so.”

I moved to the door and paused with my hand on the knob. I took a fortifying breath, but didn’t look back. “If you ever decide that you deserve a chance at living instead of just existing, you know where to find me.”

\--


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendan meddles. Jack makes Tommy a proposition.

It had been a while since I’d seen Tommy. I wasn’t paying attention to how long it’d actually been since he’d rocked my socks off and then basically ruined all chances of my hoo-hah ever enjoying herself like that again.

I barely even noticed his absence.

Barely remembered his infuriatingly luscious lips.

It wasn’t like I’d awakened every morning for the last five weeks and looked out my bedroom toward Paddy’s house, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, maybe returning from the gym or something. That would just be pathetic.

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t really as over it as I would have liked to believe. I’d done a lot of soul-searching over the last few weeks and had determined that yes, actually, I was the casual sex, friends-with-benefits type. Well, casual sex, friends-with-benefits with Tommy. But the problem was I hadn’t seen Tommy at all, which obviously meant he’d left for parts unknown.

I couldn’t very well ask Paddy too many questions at Mass, lest Paddy start asking questions of his own. And boy, wouldn’t that be a pleasant conversation during the sign of peace? _I fed your cat once and half-fell for your son—who’s kind of a dick, by the way—and then we had house-wrecking sex and he bailed because he felt super guilty. Peace be with you…_

I cringed at the thought, drawing back to where I was supposed to be focused: work. More precisely, building two Ruebens on rye. “Order up!”

“Can you grab the register?” Connie asked, stacking the plates on her arm with skills sharpened by twenty-three years in food service.

I struck the tickets and tucked a pen behind my ear, pushing out of the kitchen and ringing up a group of teenagers in TapOut gear. Judging from the sweat-dampened hair, they must’ve come from the gym.

I glanced up as a guy came through the door, sending the bell jingling. He looked vaguely familiar, but we got a lot of people in and out. He nodded as he passed the register and I smiled back. A pleasant enough face—friendly blue eyes, strong mouth, freckles. Auburn hair that curled slightly. I couldn’t place him, but I reckoned he’d been in before.

“Brendan!” Connie called, hurrying between tables as quickly as her matronly hips would allow.

“Holy shit,” whispered one of the teens. “That’s Brendan Conlon.”

I froze, hand lifted to pass the kid his change. My eyes darted to the new arrival.

“No way,” his buddy said, craning his neck. His eyes widened. “Holy shit! My pop said he was from the neighborhood, but I ain’t seen him in here before.” He took out his phone and snapped a photo.

I knew his face because I’d seen it—in pictures at Paddy’s house, though he’d been younger. And ushering Tommy out of the octagon, protecting him from the crowd and the media after their brutal fight at Sparta. The man who’d taken care to pay his brother’s medical bills, his legal bills. The man who’d had his lawyers convince the judge to give Tommy probation conditional upon his participation in therapy. Tommy’s big brother, Brendan.

Oh, this didn’t have potential to be awkward at all.

Brendan slid into a booth and smiled at Connie as she chatted, nodding politely at whatever she was asking. She left a minute later, and headed back to the counter, positively beaming.

The customer at a table near them caught my eye and lifted his coffee cup, indicating need for a refill. I reluctantly grabbed a pot, skirting Brendan’s table as much as possible—which wasn’t very much, given how small of a place we were—and headed to refill the coffee. Connie cut across my path on the way, taking a piece of my homemade pecan pie to Brendan. I went back to the counter, but hesitated halfway there when Connie called out.

“Jack, c’mere!”

I sighed and changed direction, pasting on a smile that I hoped didn’t make me look like The Joker. “Yeah? Hi,” I said when I reached the table.

“This is Jack,” Connie said. “She makes the pie.” She nodded toward Brendan, smiling proudly. “He likes your pie. This is Brendan, one of my old neighborhood boys.”

“Oh, yeah. Congratulations on that…fight…thingy.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Brendan is Tommy’s brother,” Connie added, as if she needed to clarify.

“You know Tommy?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat. “Yeah, he’s a friend of mine. Well…” I rolled my eyes. “Sort of.”

Connie threw me a knowing smirk and a wink. “Jack and Tommy were roomies for a while, weren’t you, Jack?”

My smile grew sharper as my cheeks heated. “A few weeks,” I said, silently willing her to drop it.

But Connie was on an oversharing roll. “The two of youse were so cute,” she gushed. “I tell ya, Brendan, I thought our girl here was really good for little Tommy.”

“Little Tommy is in his thirties,” I muttered. “Oh! Look at that. Customer’s waitin’ at the register. Brendan, it was nice to meet—”

“Ah, I’ll get him, Jack. You go ahead and take your break.” She leaned in close and whispered, “Tell Brendan how good Paddy’s doing. I’d love to see those boys make up with their father.”

“But—wait—” And then she was gone, and I was left alone, on break, with Brendan Conlon.

“You wanna sit?” he asked.

“I don’t want to bother you while you’re having lunch.”

“I’m just waiting.”

I perked up. “For?”

He smiled. “Lunch. To-go.”

I slid into the booth. “What’d you get? For lunch, I mean.”

“Couple of Italians and some fries.” He looked around the diner. “Jeez, I haven’t been in here in years. Hasn’t changed much.” He smiled, making his eyes squint, and took a bite of pie. “Pie’s better now.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“So you and Tommy…you’re friends?”

“Yeah. Um, ish. I mean…yeah. We’re friends. I mean, I haven’t seen him since he left your dad’s,” I added with a shrug.

“You’re from the block, right? The house beside the Karanskis?”

My brows rose, showing my surprise. “Uh, yeah. How’d you…?”

He took another bite of pie and shrugged.

So it was gonna be like that, was it? Fine. Straight to the point, then. “Did Tommy tell you about me?”

He smiled again, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some. Not really the sharing type, ya know? But he told me you stayed at Pop’s a bit.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Pretty good, actually. Got a job in a garage on the south shore.” He sat his fork on the empty plate and moved it to the edge of the table. “I’m taking lunch if you want to tag along. He could use a friendly face.”

“Oh, no. No, thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to bother—”

“You’re awful worried about bothering people,” he said, squinting over at me with a half-smile.

I chewed my thumbnail and shrugged. “Plus I’ve got work ‘til six, so it’s more that than because I just met you and going on a car ride with you across town would be super uncomfortable.”

Brendan chuckled. “Nah, I get it. It was nice meeting you, Jack.” He tossed some cash on the table and slid to the edge of the booth.

I stood up and took about two steps before I heaved a sigh and turned back to him. “Where’s he staying?”

Brendan glanced up. “What?”

“The address to his new place. Give it to me and I can drop by after work.”

“Got a pen?”

I passed him the pen I’d tucked behind my ear and he jotted down an address on a napkin. I read it and frowned. “This is a motel. A crappy motel.”

Brendan arched a brow and nodded with a wry look. “I know. I tried to get him to stay in Philly when he came for Thanksgiving, but he’s set on staying in the Burgh. For some reason,” he added, throwing me a side-eye.

I narrowed my eyes. “Trust me, buddy. It’s got nothin’ to do with me.” I folded the napkin and stuck it in my back pocket. “But yeah, I’ll go see him. I got some things we need to talk out.”

Brendan’s demeanor changed. His gaze sharpened and his shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly beneath his jacket. “You say you’re Tommy’s friend, so you know how he is—”

“A prickly bastard, yeah. Do go on.”

“Look, I gave you that address because he needs somebody other than me to give a shit about him. Don’t go over there spoiling for a fight. He’s doing better, but he ain’t undergone some miraculous transformation.”

I nodded with a small smile. “Understood.”

“Brendan, honey,” Connie called. She held up a large bag containing his to-go order. “I’ll ring you up when you’re ready.”

Brendan looked at me, wariness and hope shining in his light blue eyes. “I’ll tell Tommy you’re coming after work?”

“If you feel like that’s a good idea,” I drawled. “He’ll likely be pissed, won’t he? Maybe I should just show up and let him think it was my amazing detective skills that led me to him.”

Brendan grinned and pointed a finger at me. “You’re smart, I’ll give you that.” He stuck out a hand again, which I shook. “Nice meeting you, Jack. Seriously. See you around?”

“I don’t really make it to Philly often. Or ever, really. But assuming you’re ever in the neighborhood…” I smiled. “It was good to meet you, Brendan.”

I left Brendan at the register and went back to my tables, tossing a glance at the clock.

I had a little over four hours to talk myself out of huntin’ up Tommy Conlon after my shift.

\--

Well, I’d failed to present myself a good argument against going to see Tommy at his craptastic motel room, so here I sat, staring at a place that looked like it probably rented rooms by the hour, if you catch my meaning. I’m no snob by any stretch of the imagination, but this place…

“Blegh,” I said, looking at the stained window of Tommy’s room.

I took a healthy breath and unfolded from my car—I’d actually had to drive to this part of town because I had no desire to be caught at a bus stop after dark—and walked to the door, zipping my jacket and huddling deeper into it as a cold wind whipped at my hair. I lifted a hand and rapped on the door, absently wiping my knuckles on my jeans.

The curtain next to the door lifted for a second and I forced a smile. _Yep, it’s me again_, it said.

Tommy jerked the door open, a surprised frown etching his features. “Jack? The hell you doing here?”

I held up the bag of food I’d filched from work. “Brought you some dinner.”

Tommy rolled his eyes closed. “Fuckin’ Brendan,” he sighed. He opened the door wider and stepped aside.

I followed him in, tucking my hands in my jacket pocket while he bustled around the room, picking up discarded clothes and tossing them onto a pile in the corner. “Nice place.”

He pinned me with a glare, crossed his arms. “What’re you doing here?”

I sat the bag on the rickety table and unzipped my jacket, shrugging out of it and draping it over the back of an equally ragged chair. “I dunno. After you bailed, I was sad. Felt kinda bad, like maybe I could’ve done or said somethin’ to change your mind. Then I got pissed, ‘cause it wasn’t fair, you cuttin’ me out like that. Like, you’re really just gonna pretend I don’t exist?”

“I told you then—”

“I know. But that didn’t fit with my girlie mental process,” I said. I plopped onto the edge of the bed and crossed my legs under me. “Anyway, after I got over being pissed, I realized I actually just missed you. I mean, you’re an asshole eighty-percent of the time, but you were nice to have around. Which is when I decided to make you an offer—assuming I was able to track you down, of course.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What kind of offer?”

“Well, the original offer was friends-with-benefits,” I said, looking around the room. “But now I’m amending it to roommates-with-benefits. You gotta get out of this place before you contract some kind of flesh-eating bacteria.”

He scoffed and relaxed, dropping his arms to his sides. “Friends-with-benefits? You? Christ, Jack.”

“What? It’s not such a crazy notion.”

“It’s a fuckin’ insane notion,” he said, voice ringing with amusement—which bugged the hell out of me.

“We’re friends, remember? We parted on friendly terms. And the benefits…well, you definitely can’t deny those sound intriguing. I have enough maturity to separate friendship and romantic feelings. I ain’t dumb enough to get seduced by you, Tommy Conlon.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunted, an infuriating grin on his face. “So you’re just gonna…what? Keep me as a live-in fuckboy?”

“Well, Christmas is coming up,” I said snarkily, shaking my head and standing. “Look, you do know that people can manage to live together without pesky emotions getting in the way, right?”

He threw up his hands and turned away. “You’ve had some ideas—some stupid, crazy ideas—but this, I think, takes the cake.” He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms again. “There’s no way in hell you keep your emotions in check. One week in and you’d be lookin’ at me with those big cow eyes like I hung the fuckin’ moon.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” I sneered.

“Hey, you’re the one who hunted me down, remember? All because you wanted another roll with me.” He stalked toward me, a challenging smile curving his full lips. “How’s a guy not supposed to let that go to his head?”

“Are you being like this to try to chase me off, or are you really this big of a dick at times?” I planted my hands on my hips and lifted my chin. “Okay, here’s the thing. Yes, I have a…a yen for you, I guess. And I have a hearty to-do list on the sexual front, and I think you could be more than handy at ticking off some of those things. But the real heart of this deal isn’t the sex—if it makes things weird or complicated and you don’t wanna go that road, it’s no big deal. But the fact is I missed you, you stupid ass, and I think it’d be cool if you’d move into the spare room at my place and help me with rent until you found a place across the bridge, closer to your job.”

He stepped closer, eyes piercing. The smile had slipped from his lips and he chewed the inside of his cheek as he regarded me. “Maybe I don’t want to move back to the neighborhood, but I do wanna fuck you when the mood hits. Your plan got a option for that?”

I swallowed, gaze dropping to his mouth. Damn them lips. “I’m really lazy,” I croaked. Cleared my throat and tried again. “It’d be a lot handier if we were in the same house, ya know?”

His lips hitched on one side and he cupped the back of my head, drawing me closer. “You’re crazy as shit, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it a time or two,” I said wryly. “So what do you say? Wanna roommate with me again?”

He sobered, eyes darkening, and turned me so that my back was to his front and I had to meet his eyes in the large mirror hanging on the wall. “We do this, we go down this rabbit hole, and this—” He cupped me through my jeans, grinding his hips against my ass as he held me still. “This is mine. Got it? While we’re sleepin’ together, I own this.”

I swiveled my hips a bit, just slight movement, and my lips parted at the press of his hot palm at my crotch and the rub of his denim-covered cock at my ass. I vaguely recognized that he was waiting on me to speak, but…what were words? I nodded instead, and he smiled darkly, leaning forward to bite my earlobe.

“Good.”

“But just so you know,” I began, finally finding my voice when he moved his hand. I held his gaze in the mirror and reached back, palming him through his jeans. “I don’t share either.”

He gave one slow blink—one I’d come to call the Tommy Conlon Blink of Resignation--and pumped his hips against my hand, letting me feel him. “Fine.”

\--


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex. Uncomfortable Conlon family interactions. Sex. Jack worries.

Tommy followed me home on his motorcycle and got his stuff from my trunk while I opened the door. Murphy darted past me, ignoring my attempted greeting, and made a beeline for her favorite human. Tommy squatted down as soon as he entered the gate, a big crooked grin softening his features, giving him an impish look as he ruffled the dog’s fur.

“She’s gonna be big,” he said, patting Murph’s side as he stood.

“Yeah. She already takes up half the bed.” I held the door open for him, stepping aside so he could pass while I waited for Murphy to pee. As soon as she was done, she bounded into the house. She liked the cold as much as I did.

“Bedroom’s in there,” I said, pointing down the hall. “There’s a futon in there right now, but I thought maybe you could call Paddy and see about getting that frame outta the shed. You got the half-bath down here, but you’ll have to shower upstairs. You hungry? I’ll make some dinner.”

“You brought me dinner, remember?” He smirked. “Y’okay? Seem a little flustered, Jack.”

“No,” I scoffed. “I’m fine. I just…I forgot.” I dropped my backpack beside the door and bent to retrieve my dirty work clothes so I could toss them in the laundry. Tommy’s hands gripped at my hips and I snapped straight. “Uh, what—whatcha doing?”

“This was part of the rental agreement, right? Roommates-with-benefits.” He turned me in his arms, sliding his hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “Think I’ll test out those benefits. Unless you’re having second thoughts?” he added challengingly.

“No, but…” I leaned back slightly when he leaned toward me. “But I mean, like, now? We just got home. Don’t you want to unpack or do some laundry or s-something?” I gasped and curled my fingers into his shirt when he squeezed my cheeks and drew me fully against him.

“Nah.” He dipped his head and nuzzled my throat, gently sucking on my skin.

I arched against him, letting my head fall back to give him better access. I pressed against his chest and he straightened, brows drawn in question. But I just nudged him backward, stepping him back the two steps to the sofa. He sat and pulled me down with him, my knees on either side of his thighs.

He cradled my face between his hands, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast to the ferocity of his kiss. He didn’t ask or tease. His tongue slicked its way between my lips and into my mouth, and I drew on his taste, clutching the nape of his neck to hold him closer still.

He dropped his hands, tugging me firmly against the bulge in his jeans, then pushed the flannel shirt from my shoulders and scooped my t-shirt over my head. He stroked a hand down my throat, pivoting his hips and trying to urge me onto my back so that he could have the positional advantage.

Ha! Eff that.

I leaned against his hold and fused my mouth to his again. He gave a quick squeeze at the base of my throat, then snaked his hand down to my right breast. He tore the cup of my bra aside and hitched an arm around my hips, lifting me slightly from his lap so he could fasten his lips to my waiting breast. My hips canted, and I wound my arms around his head, riding him as if we were already naked.

Somehow he found enough space to unfasten my jeans. I could feel myself, hot and slick, and when his fingers found me, I threw my head back and gasped. He slid one finger into me and then another, stretching me even as he bit and licked at my breasts and neck and shoulders.

I felt an orgasm building…and if he’d just move his hand…just a little…

He pulled his hand from my jeans, and I growled.

Like a friggin’ animal.

He shoved me from his lap, forcing me to stand. “Strip,” he said. And oddly enough, he sounded like a growly animal too.

He unfastened his belt buckle and freed himself as I kicked off my shoes and socks and shimmied out of my jeans and panties. He held me around the waist with one arm when I scrambled back onto his lap and caught my laugh on his tongue. I felt him smile against my lips, but he broke away with a sharp intake of breath when I wrapped my fist around his hard length.

“Fuck, Jack.”

His eyes fell closed as I stroked him and worked his shirt up with one hand, giving his torso the same treatment he’d given mine—well, what my lips could reach anyway. His hips rocked against my hand, and I grew even wetter as I watched him. His fists clenched at my hips and he shook his head, lifting me bodily and pulling me forward, lining up our bodies. His eyes opened, and oh, god, I could practically feel the fire burning in them.

I sank onto him slowly, my breath catching with every inch of invasion. He gripped my thighs and I put my hands on his shoulders, anchoring myself, as I took the lead. As he _gave_ me the lead.

I leaned back, bracing my hands on his knees, as I rode him hard and slow to completion. My back bowed with the force of my orgasm and I let go a primal shout. Tommy sat up straighter on the sofa, wrapping his arms around me. He buried his face against my breasts, kissing and teasing the sensitive skin, continuing to pound into me. He nibbled at my sweat-slicked throat, grinning against my skin before turning his head and biting my shoulder. I came again, seconds before his own orgasm took him.

My heart pounded in my chest and there didn’t seem to be enough air in the world, but I sighed heartily and went lax around him, resting my forehead on his shoulder as my breaths ghosted over his skin.

He collapsed his head onto the back of the couch, his own breaths coming as short pants. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes and his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “You got yourself a roommate, Jack.”

I laughed, closing my eyes as I willed my heart to stop pounding. “And you said it was a stupid idea.”

“Crazy,” he corrected. “And I ain’t saying it’s not. But fuck…I think I can deal you’re your kinda crazy.”

_Same_, I thought. But I just smiled and took a deep, steadying breath, listening to Tommy’s pulse race as we lapsed into a peaceful afterglow. --

It had taken some doing, but Tommy had finally conceded to getting the old bed out of Paddy’s shed. Paddy had tried to strike up conversation a few times, but only got a few short responses from his son.

Yeah, still a lot of work to be done there, obviously.

Having to interact with Paddy at all seemed to put Tommy in a funk. His mood was definitely a far cry from the teasing one he’d been in last night when he’d strode naked from my bedroom to go to his own. He’d been borderline-surly all day, and the strain of moving the iron bedframe and all its trappings across the street—on foot, since neither of us had a vehicle we could load it in—was starting to take its toll.

The sky was overcast, making the forty-degree temp seem colder, but by the time we’d lug a load into the house and get it set up, I’d have sweat pouring down my back under my coat. I don’t like to sweat. I don’t like to be cold. Waffling between sweaty _and_ cold was pretty much asking for a hissy fit. So as the work wore on, the more broody grunts and single-word answers I’d get from Tommy, the more my own annoyance cranked up.

We were struggling to get the last piece, the queen size mattress, down Paddy’s driveway and over to my house when Paddy came out for another attempt to engage Tommy.

“Just go back in the house, Pop, okay? Jesus. This ain’t really the time for any bullshit bonding moment.”

“A’ight,” I said, dropping my end of the mattress. “I’m out.”

Tommy staggered, trying to keep his end upright. “What—hey! The hell you doin’?”

“I’m sweatin’ like a man, for one thing. And I _was_ listening to you snipe and grumble while helpin’ you cart a bed that your dad gave me so we wouldn’t have to buy one, but I’m not doing it anymore. You can get this part in yourself. You’re a big guy.” I went around him, patting Paddy on the arm as I passed. “Thanks again, Paddy. I really appreciate it.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. He looked between me and Tommy with a speculative gleam in his eye. “Anytime.”

“Jack,” Tommy called, but I waved at him without turning.

I wasn’t angry or anything, and maybe it was kind of a shitty thing to do, just up and walk out before we got the mattress in, but he was being a real prick and I felt that walking off the job was better than calling him an a-hole in front of the whole neighborhood on the first day after I’d invited him to room with me. Everybody probably already thought we were shacking up, and they definitely would if we got into a bickering argument right in front of God and everybody.

I made it up to my room and had stripped out of my coat, hoodie, shirt, and boots when I heard the door crash open and Tommy’s grunts of exertion as he wrassled the mattress down the hallway to his room. I grabbed some fresh underwear and headed for the bathroom, stopping long enough to yell down the stairwell.

“I’m gonna grab a shower. You gettin’ everything together all right?” Sullen silence was my only answer. “Okay. Clean sheets are in the laundry room. Titbag,” I added under my breath.

I got the water adjusted to the perfect temperature, stripped out of the rest of my clothes, and stepped into the shower. I’d just rinsed my hair when I heard the door click. I frowned and reached for the curtain, flinching back with a startled curse when Tommy whipped it open.

“You just really enjoy being a stealthy creeper, don’t you?” I asked, arching a brow. I grabbed at the edge of the curtain, trying to cover even a little of myself, but he just pushed it back further.

He’d shed his outerwear and boots and was dressed only in loose jeans and an old t-shirt that had probably been white once upon a time. His eyes roamed my body and I blushed—even though I’d just taken a second to ogle him—but I knew I was probably glowing red as the poinsettia I had sitting on the mantel, which really wasn’t fair.

“You mad I left you to carry the mattress?”

His gaze snapped back to mine, and a confused little frown line formed between his brows. “No.”

“Well…what’re you doing in here if it isn’t to bitch me out for gettin’ huffy with you? I mean, not to be rude, but I’m sorta naked—Tommy!”

He stepped into the shower fully clothed and closed the curtain, then boxed me in with his palms against the shower wall on either side of my head. He leaned close, rubbing his whiskered chin against my cheek. “Figured we could share water and save on the bill. Just another benefit, right?”

A smile played at my lips. “You haven’t seemed much like you’re in a _beneficial_ mood today. Been kinda quiet.” I slid my hands over his hips and slipped them beneath the hem of his shirt. The water-soaked cotton was practically transparent now, and all his tattoos stood stark beneath. My lips itched to taste them.

“That’s got nothing to do with you,” he murmured.

I reached up and touched his lips, stroked my fingertips over his scruffy beard. “I know.” I tried to duck beneath his arm but he lowered it and blocked my escape, and I grinned. “Tommy…”

“Jack?” His wet hand slicked up my ribs.

“I’m not graceful enough to benefit you in the shower.”

“We’ll make do.”

“We already screwed around twice now with no condoms, and I ain’t really lookin’ to get knocked up by you.”

He dipped his head to kiss my ear, then lower to suck on my neck. “I’ll pull out.”

“Said the opening to every movie about teen pregnancy ever,” I laughed.

“Let me worry about it.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Turn around, Jack.”

It was sad, really, the way my body reacted after such a short time to receiving his attentions. But the quiet, rumbling request—command—made my heart stutter in my chest. His eyes were unreadable as he stared me down. Water sluiced over his hair and down the sides of his face, curving over his stubbled jaw. Occasionally a stream would branch and detour to curl at the corner of his full mouth and drip down his chin.

Tommy Conlon was a complex creature inside and out, but the effect he had on me was simple.

I turned beneath the spray, stepping toward the back of the stall. The rustle of wet fabric made me swallow a second before his t-shirt plopped to the shower floor. I glanced over my shoulder, breath catching at the sight of water flowing over his tattooed body, little rivulets spiraling over his saint medal.

“Eyes front.”

I arched a brow and let my gaze wander over him one more time, giving him a slow, lazy blink—_You’re not the boss of me_, it said—before I finally acquiesced and faced the back wall.

“Hands on the wall.”

I crossed my arms, smiling and catching my bottom lip between my teeth at the sound of his grunt. Amused or annoyed, I wasn’t sure.

I tensed briefly when his rough palms brushed over my shoulders and slicked down my arms. He nipped the side of my neck, making me gasp and straighten as his arms wrapped around me.

“You don’t listen very good.”

He closed his fingers around my wrists and tugged my arms open, then stretched over me and pressed my hands to the built-in shelf in front of me. His wet bare chest and the chill of his medal against my back was enough to have my whole body heating and softening.

He turned to face into the side of my throat. “Keep ‘em there.”

“Or what?” My teasing defiance might’ve been more effective if my voice hadn’t been so husky. I felt him smile against my skin.

“You ain’t ready to know.”

Holy shit, was that ever an intriguing answer…

I wanted to drop my hands immediately, test his bluster, but something in his tone warned me that now wasn’t the time. But I’d definitely be exploring that road at a later juncture.

His hands dragged up my arms, over my shoulders, down my back, and I gripped the edge of the shelf and bowed like a cat accepting a stroke. I briefly closed my eyes and bit back a whimper.

“Your body makes me wanna do things…” he growled. “Your fuckin’ head would explode if you could see the things I wanna do to you.”

His hands streaked over my hips and up my torso, and I opened my eyes to watch his tanned fingers splay across my pale skin, his thumbs lightly brushing the undersides of my breasts. My nipples strained for attention. I shifted and he rested his chin on my shoulder, stilling me.

“Want me to touch ‘em? Hm?”

His thumbs inched higher and my fingers clutched at the shelf. I bent so I could rest my forehead on my outstretched arms, an unobstructed view of his hands on me. He moved closer to me, the wet denim of his jeans scratching the backs of my thighs.

“You watching?” he asked. “Should I pinch ‘em hard? Huh? Or just give you a little tease?”

“Jesus, Tommy,” I whispered, arching my hips back against his jeans.

He shoved his thigh between mine, nudging my legs apart, and ground his hips against my ass. “Maybe,” he mused, trailing one hand down my stomach. “Maybe I’ll go hard with this—” He flicked his thumb roughly over my left nipple, then pinched, drawing a strangled groan from me. “—and tease this.”

He sank two fingers between my legs, ghosting his fingertips over my clit. My eyes shut and I forgot how to breathe.

“Wait, wait,” he drawled. “I know. How ‘bout easy here…” The grasping fingers at my breast gentled to a light caress. “And rough here?” He pressed firmly against my flesh, circling, pinching my clit between his fingers.

I shrieked and writhed, dropping one hand to his wrist to keep him from pulling away. My hips undulated against him, rough denim at my back and rough fingertips at my front.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Look at you, using me like that. This how you did yourself before I came along?” A strained sound tore from him and he licked the side of my throat. “I’ll have to see that sometime. You gotta show me.”

Release screamed through me and I clenched around his fingers, my nails digging into his wrist. I hadn’t even recovered fully before he’d put my hand back on the shelf and pulled my hips back so that I was bent at a near right angle. Drops from the shower splashed off his shoulders and pattered against my back, cooling my skin.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful like this, ya know that? All bent over, waiting for my cock.” He dragged a hand down my spine, continuing over the curve of my ass and between my legs. He made that sound again. “Like liquid silk.”

My knees and thighs quaked. “Tommy, please…”

He released me to shove his jeans down and stepped closer. “Say that again. Just like that.”

I clenched my teeth and groaned. “Are you seriously power trippin’ right now?”

He chuckled, a rusty sound. “Can’t think of a better time for it,” he said easily. He ran his body along the seam of mine with a heavy groan, coating himself in the slickness he found. He rocked slowly once again, hips locked to mine, his cock buried in my folds.

“Oh, you’re a bastard,” I whined. It broke off into a whimper when he groped my ass, fingers denting my skin, spreading my cheeks.

He scorched a trail from between my legs and up, and I gasped, whipping my head around to stop him—my ass was exit only, thank you—but he gently shushed me before I could say a word. He rubbed himself against me almost meditatively, pulling his lip into his mouth and sucking on it.

“So many things,” he murmured, as if to himself. Then he reached around and cupped me, sliding between my thighs again. “So how ‘bout it? You gonna ask nice for me?”

“Fuck you, Tommy,” I panted, trying to keep still.

Another chuckle, this one darker. He gripped my hair and pulled my head back—not a yank that hurt but an insistent tug that set my body on fire. “Yeah, we gonna need to work on how you follow orders.”

He sank into my core at the same time his teeth bit into my back, right between my shoulder blades. I cried out in bliss. There was no way that wasn’t going to bruise, but I was strangely comfortable with the idea of being marked by him. He was ruthless in his thrusts, hips smacking wetly against my backside as he grunted with effort.

I straightened, breath catching at the change in angle, and reached back to curl my nails into the nape of his neck. His arms snaked around my waist, hands cupping my breasts, squeezing harshly as he banded me to him. He pivoted and sat on the shower stool, and I winced at the twinge that accompanied his stretching me further. He spread his thighs and hiked my legs over his knees.

“Look,” he said. “Watch us. Christ, Jack, it’s so fuckin’ hot.”

I would’ve, but I was too overcome with sensation to open my eyes. Already another orgasm clawed its way closer.

“Your cunt’s so greedy for me,” he growled against my ear. “Fuck! So hot. So tight.”

I rolled my hips, chasing release, and he groaned.

“Yeah! Yeah, baby. Just like that.” His fingers tightened at my hips and he pistoned even faster.

I rolled again, clenching around him as I jerked and twitched through wave after wave of pleasure. “Oh god! Oh m-my god!”

Tommy pulled me down as he slammed home again, then jerked out of me, lashing my ass and the insides of my thighs with his hot seed. Oh, it was a heady sight to see.

After a moment, I tried to take my leg off his knee but hissed at the shooting pain that cramped up my thigh.

“Easy,” he purred, cupping my thigh and massaging with his thumb. “You all right?”

I breathed a laugh and cleared my throat. “Ask me in a few days when maybe I can walk again.”

He picked up my long-forgotten washrag and ran it over one thigh, then the other, cleaning what was left of his mess. I hooked my finger on the chain around his neck and tugged him in for a deep kiss, twining my tongue with his. Then I added a couple of quick, cheerful pecks on his lips for good measure.

I carefully straightened my legs, leaning back against him. He kissed my forehead in an uncharacteristically sweet gesture.

“Can’t leave if you can’t walk,” he said lightly, but there was something in his eyes that belied his teasing tone.

I squinted up at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Nothin’.” He patted my hip and I stood on wobbly legs, picking up the tattered remains of the shower curtain. He winced. “Guess I’ll replace that. I’m going for a run anyway. You want me to pick up something for dinner?” he asked, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel.

I shook my head. “I can fix something. Hey,” I said gently, brows drawn. When he looked at me, I cocked my head. “You okay? You seem…upset.”

He toweled off and shrugged. “I told you, I ain’t mad.”

“Not mad,” I said. “But you’re antsy. Is it because I made you go to your dad’s?”

“Nah. I can handle the old man.” When I continued to watch him, he reached out and pinched my chin lightly between thumb and forefinger. “I’m fine, Jack. Just a bad day is all.” He shrugged and scrubbed the towel over his hair before wrapping it around his waist. “Happens.”

“Okay. Listen, if you want to talk—”

He shot me a crooked grin and shook his head. “I get enough of that at those bullshit meetings, ya know? I’m all right,” he assured me again. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll see you later. Need anything while I’m out?”

“No, I don’t think so. Will you let Murph into the gate when you leave?”

He nodded and left the bathroom in search of fresh clothes. I chewed my cheek and stepped back under the shower spray to wash again, worrying. Since moving in, Tommy hadn’t had any manic days. He’d been in a bad mood a couple of times, but nothing back-and-forth like today. It concerned me. I wasn’t sure what was bothering him, but whatever it was, I hoped he didn’t seek solace in a bottle.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares. Emotional scars. Jack takes care of Tommy.

I’d eaten dinner and retreated upstairs with a book before Tommy got back home. It was late. I heard the front door open and sat up, waiting to see if he planned to come upstairs. But his footfalls stayed on the first floor, and after a moment his bedroom door shut. I put my book aside and turned off my lamp, settling into bed for the night. Murph clambered up the stairs and onto my bed with a sigh, not liking being left out of Tommy’s room. I patted her head and snuggled deeper into my blanket, slipping off to sleep.

A low, pained cry woke me up a little while later. I sat up, looking for Murphy, but she wasn’t in bed. I got up and hurried downstairs, visions of my poor pup having ingested another cluster of fake flowers—or something even worse this time—flying through my mind. At the foot of the stairs, I heard her whine, toenails clicking on the hardwood floor. I slowed as I padded down the hallway.

The wounded sound came again, but it wasn’t Murphy that made it. She paced outside Tommy’s bedroom, looking at me helplessly as she tried to dig her way beneath the door. I knocked gently and placed my ear against the wood. Tommy moaned, and the bed frame creaked beneath his weight.

I nudged Murph aside with my leg and slipped into his bedroom. A swell of sympathy swallowed me when I caught sight of Tommy. Sheets tangled around his legs and body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His chest heaved and tears streamed from his eyes. He cried out again, and the anguish in the sound stabbed me in the heart. I approached the bed, quietly calling his name. In his sleep, his eyebrows twitched.

I tried again, a little louder. “Tommy?” I leaned over and hesitantly touched his shoulder. “Tommy, wake—”

He came awake with a bellow, hands shooting out and gripping my neck. He rolled, pinning me, and squeezed my throat. His eyes were wild, unfocused.

He wasn’t seeing _me_.

I clasped at his shoulders, shaking him, finally cupped his face between my palms and gasped his name as spots started dancing in my vision.

His pupils contracted and he released me, shoving from the bed and burying his face in his hands as he collapsed against the wall and slid down to the floor. He sobbed, broken sounds that seemed to be ripping from the depths of his soul. I sucked in a few breaths and coughed.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he chanted, burrowing his face against his knees.

I wasn’t so sure he was talking to me. I knew the story of what had happened to Tommy overseas, to his entire unit. And while I knew he’d also been dealing with his family stuff, I understood the bulk of his issues stemmed from that trauma. I wiped tears from my cheeks and slipped from the bed, crouching beside him on the floor. I wasn’t sure whether to touch him or give him space. But when another round of body-shaking sobs tore from him, I looped an arm around his shoulders. His muscles were knotted with tension, rock-hard beneath my hand. I stroked his cheek with my other hand, gently pulling him into the shelter of my arms.

“Shh,” I cooed. “You’re okay, Tommy. Shh. It was just a dream.”

I’m not sure how long we sat like that, him huddled against me, head in my lap, while I petted and murmured, trying to soothe him. He didn’t move, didn’t try to pull away or jostle me from where I’d rested my cheek against his shoulder. But eventually he found his voice again.

“I coulda really hurt you.”

“I’m tougher than I look, Conlon.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You don’t need this kinda shit on you. Too good for it. I gotta go before I hurt you for real.”

I couldn’t tell him that his leaving would hurt me more than anything else he’d done. Instead, I faked a light tone and said, “I appreciate the thought, but I’m pretty capable of making decisions. If I get tired of you or your shenanigans, I’ll let you know.”

“Why you wanna put up with this?” he whispered.

“Because you mean something to me,” I said simply, dragging my fingers through his hair. “You’re my friend.”

He took a slow, deep breath. “Don’t fall for me, Jack.”

I smiled against his shoulder. “I won’t.”

“We shouldn’t sleep together anymore,” he said.

“Your staying here isn’t conditional upon sleeping with me. That’s shady dealings, even for me.” I lightly scratched the back of his neck when he turned his face further into my thigh and gave a thoughtful sigh. “I mean it. If that’s what you want, that’s fine.”

“It’s not what I _want_,” he said, “but it’s what needs to happen. Christ, you might be pregnant already.”

“I doubt it, though.”

“Shouldn’t keep tempting fate.”

“Like I said, we don’t have to. I never want you to get to the point where being with me like that feels like an obligation.”

I felt his lips move, possibly in a fleeting smile. “Trust me, it don’t feel like that.”

“Well then how ‘bout we go on about our business and not talk about pregnancy unless it actually comes up?”

“What if it does? I shouldn’t be a father, Jack. Not with my head so fucked up.”

“Tommy, don’t stress about it, okay? Please? Come on,” I said quickly, sitting up and stretching my neck. I patted his head. “I’ll make us some homemade cocoa. The warm milk’ll help you go back to sleep.”

He stood and offered a hand to help me up. I winced as blood flowed back into my feet. He turned the light on as I hobbled toward the door, and stopped me as I passed. His eyes were probing when he gently took my chin and angled my head up, examining my throat. His fingertips brushed my skin and his brows drew down further.

“I’m okay,” I guaranteed him. I pulled my chin from his fingers and took his face between my hands, rising on tip-toes to place an easy kiss on his lips. “Are you?”

He scoffed and kissed the side of my head as he opened the door. “Nah. But maybe one day.”

My heart broke a little at the dispassionate tone. I wanted Tommy to be okay, to be happy again. I wanted it more than I wanted anything else, truthfully. And possibly more than anybody else did, which was saying something. I thought of Brendan, his bright eyes shining with hope as he’d talked about his brother’s progress that day at the diner.

“Do me a favor?” I asked as he bent to give Murphy a reassuring pat.

“Hm?”

“Will you call your brother today?”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Because you aren’t alone. You mean something to him too. Don’t have to tell him about this,” I said, waving toward his room, “but just give him a call and talk. Ask about his kids.”

He frowned as he considered, but finally nodded. “He wanted me to come for Christmas, but I was just there at Thanksgiving, ya know? I’ll set up a check-in at New Year’s or something.”

“Maybe don’t call it a check-in,” I said wryly, nudging him with my shoulder.

“I ain’t calling it family bonding,” he said, arching a brow.

I grinned. “Visit, I think is the usual term. Just tell him you’ll visit at New Year’s.”

The corner of his mouth curled. “A’ight.”

\--


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Invasion.

Work, work, work. It seemed like all I ever did was work.

And Tommy.

Though the baby-anxiety-induced abstinence hadn’t lasted but a couple of days, even sexy fun times took a break during the week because we both had to work. Late nights and early mornings do not a happy household make. By the time I came home from working double shifts—Connie had asked for time off to go spend the week before Christmas with her granddaughter in Florida, and I’d been happy to cover for her—all I’d wanted to do was crash.

But not tonight.

Christmas was one week away. My parents were making the six-hour drive Christmas morning to stay a day or two, and I had a bajillion things to do before then. Not to mention getting my volunteer hours in at the church and getting the children’s choir ready to sing a special arrangement at Midnight Mass. I sprawled across my bed and kicked my feet, flailing in impotent protest.

“Get those fits often?”

I squeaked and flinched upward, which drew Murphy’s attention and sent her into a raging tornado of excited activity. She bolted up and down the bed before clambering off and galumphing down the stairs.

I huffed a sigh and rolled, pushed up on my elbows to look at him. “I’ve got so much to do and no inclination to do it,” I whined. Then I collapsed back to the bed with a groan. “All I really want to do is nothing because I have so much to do, but I don’t even know where to start and that frustrates me which is why I don’t actually want to do anything.”

Tommy leaned against my doorjamb and crossed his arms. “So don’t do nothing.”

“I can’t. Christmas is in a week.”

“So?”

“So?” My voice was incredulous and I rolled into a sit-up with all the grace of a turtle on its back. I pushed my hair out of my face and goggled at him. “What do you mean, so? It’s _Christmas_. Please, lord, tell me you’re not one of those cranks who hates Christmas.”

He smiled easily. “Nah, I ain’t. But I don’t get the point of making yourself nuts over it either. My Ma used to do that shit.” He dropped his gaze, examined his knuckles. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, though his lips still curved. “Busted her ass tryin’ to have the perfect Christmas. Every year.”

“Well, my parents are coming for Christmas dinner, so it’s less about having the perfect Christmas and more about finding ways to limit ways my mom can fit work into the conversation.”

“Didn’t you tell me your mom’s a shrink or something?”

“Sex therapist,” I reminded him. “With the sense of humor of a fourteen-year-old boy. She finds innuendo in everything. I just want one family gathering where I don’t have to hear words like ‘vulva’ or ‘ejaculate’ while trying to enjoy dessert.” I fell back on the bed and covered my eyes with my fingers. “I need to plan a menu that in no ways ties to sex. Do you know how hard that is?” I snorted and peered over at him. “See? She’d have latched on to that, even.”

He dropped his arms and strode toward the bed. “Come on. Get up.”

“What? Why?” I took his hand when he held it out, and he hauled me to my feet.

“Going to play pool at Roarke’s.” He turned and headed through the door.

“I can’t go to Roarke’s,” I called as he jogged downstairs. “I just said I got like a ton of things—”

“You passing on a challenge?” He leaned over the banister at the bottom of the stairs and clucked his tongue. “Thought you had more spine than that, Jack.”

“Really? You’re trying to goad me?”

He shot me a crooked grin, then straightened and slapped his hand on the banister. “Come on. Bring your ass. You got five minutes, then I’m coming up after you.”

“Do I have to put on date clothes?” I glanced down at my gray sweater and leggings, reached up to tighten my crooked ponytail.

“I don’t care. This ain’t a date.” His necklace jingled as he slipped on his leather jacket and zipped it, and he looked up at me. “I’m gonna let Murph out. Four minutes.”

I went back to my room and tugged on my boots, then went to the bathroom and made a face at the mirror. I swiped smudged mascara from under my eyes and dusted a little bit of powder across my forehead and nose. And that was that. After all, this wasn’t a date.

I headed down the steps just as Tommy started up. My brows rose. “You were seriously coming up after me?”

“Said I was, didn’t I? Murph, couch.” He pointed toward the living room and the dog dutifully obeyed. “She listens better than you.”

I smiled, cheeks heating, but I snorted. “Yeah, well. She also chases a ball even if you don’t throw it, so I ain’t expecting a call from NASA anytime soon.” We stepped onto the porch and locked up, then headed to the pub. I clapped my hands and rubbed my palms together. “So! What’s the stakes? You gonna let me take your money again?”

“We can do money. Or we could make it real interesting.”

I cut my eyes at him. “Interesting? Like what?”

“Like I win, I get to screw you once at any time of my choosing, in any way.”

I gave a surprised laugh. “_What_? So…what, like I’m walking down the produce aisle and you get an itch so we bang in an alcove between the watermelons and the bananas?”

He shot me a crooked grin and sniffed, huddling deeper into his jacket. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“Risky. I mean, how’m I supposed to know you aren’t gonna get tweaked at me one day and pick some super embarrassing scenario where I have to grab my ankles wearing a cowboy hat and pasties in the bathroom at the diner?”

“Fuck me, you got an imagination,” Tommy said with a chuckle. “Cowboy hats don’t flutter my balls, but the rest of it…yeah, ya never know. That’s why it’s called gambling, Jack.”

I took a thoughtful breath and huffed it out slowly. “Know what? I’m calling you on your shit, Conlon. Deal. Not that it matters because I am going to wipe the floor with you tonight.” I hopped over a crack in the sidewalk, suddenly energetic. “Okay, _when_ I win,” I said, grinning cheekily at him, “you have to make dinner every night this week and do my laundry.”

Tommy arched a brow. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, well…what can I say? My sexual prowess takes a backburner to my laziness.”

“Damn shame,” he murmured.

We arrived at Roarke’s and he pulled the door open, allowing me to enter. We moved to a booth in the back, near the pool tables, and waited for the opportunity for a game. I ordered a seltzer with lime, but Tommy got a beer.

“You ain’t going to start preaching, are you?” he asked, taking a pull.

“You ain’t gonna get wasted, are you?” I countered, relaxing when his lips curved.

“That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”

I grinned. “Heard that a time or two.”

\--

After a week of nonstop running and gunning in preparation for Christmas, I was actually able to settle into a good deep sleep. That was, however, until I was drawn back to consciousness by Tommy nudging me with his elbow.

“Somebody’s at the door,” he grumbled.

I rolled away from his back and buried my face in my pillow with a grumble of my own.

“Jack.”

“No,” I grunted.

The knocking continued and I burrowed deeper under my pillow, clinging to the last tendrils of sleep with everything I possessed.

Knowing my parents were coming in for a couple of days, Tommy and I had been particularly active last night, knocking quite a few items from my To-Do list. Our sex-tornado had eventually made its way upstairs and to my bedroom after hitting pretty much every other surface along the way. I ached in the most delicious way possible and wanted nothing now but to sleep until time for Mass.

Tommy cursed under his breath when the knocking intensified. The bed shifted under his weight as he got out, and I let out an undignified whine when he yanked the blanket from my naked body. I cocked my head up to glare at him, but there wasn’t any heat in it and I ended up smiling anyway.

He was sleep-rumpled and grumpy, muttering to himself as he pulled on his jeans. He didn’t bother with a shirt, nevermind that he’d have to open the door to a few inches of snow. He had a bad case of bedhead, with a cowlick in both the back and front. He’d be even crankier if he knew the word I’d use to describe him at the moment: adorable.

He glowered and zipped his fly. “You owe me for this, Jack.”

My smile widened. “I’ll think of some way to repay you.”

His lips twitched, even as he shook his head. As soon as he’d left the room, I reclaimed my blanket and rolled back over, sighing as I settled back in and started to drift off.

Tommy returned too soon, shaking me awake. “You gotta get up.”

His voice was urgent, but I groaned and pushed at his hand. He pulled the pillow off my head and tugged on the blanket. “Quit,” I whimpered. “Lemme sleep.”

“Jack, you gotta get up,” he insisted. “Your folks are here.”

I frowned and rolled over to look at him. “Nuh-uh. They’re not supposed to get here ‘til tomorrow. Tomorrow’s Christmas.”

“Looks like they’re early.” He dragged a hand through his messy hair and scratched the back of his head.

“No.” I sat up quickly and scrambled from the bed, all thoughts of sleeping eradicated by the streak of sheer panic that darted through me. “No, no, no. They can’t!” I buried my hands in my hair, frantically looking around the room. “Shit! They _can’t_ be here yet!”

“What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the—what do you mean what’s the big deal? Don’t you dare smirk at me, Conlon! This is no time for you to get a sense of humor!” I snatched a pillow and hurled it at him. “D’you think they know we’re sleeping together?”

He caught the pillow and scoffed. “I’d say it’s a pretty good chance, yeah.” He held his hands up in a placating gesture when I whirled on him, but he didn’t bother to hide the crooked grin.

“Omigod, the house is sex-wrecked!” I gasped, slapping a hand over my mouth. “What the hell are we gonna do?”

“Get dressed. Go drink some coffee.” He shrugged. “Didn’t you tell them I was staying here?”

I pulled on a pair of boxers, realized they were his and took them off again, and then grabbed some sweats and a t-shirt from my pajama drawer. “I told them you were staying here ‘til you got you another place, but…” I struggled with the twisted t-shirt, and he stepped over to help me get it fixed. “I was gonna make it look like you actually stayed in the second bedroom so it wouldn’t be so blatantly obvious to them that we—”

“Jack. _Jack_. Relax, will ya?” he said, resting his heavy hands on my shoulders to keep me from pinging around the room. He tugged my t-shirt down, cupped my face. “Calm down. Your folks knew I was stayin’ here. Judging from the daggers your old man was shootin’ my way, now they know we fuck, too.”

He looped an arm around the back of my neck, tugging me against him. He playfully bit the top of my ear and grunted when I socked him in the stomach, but placed a kiss on my forehead before moving away.

“How’m I supposed to act normal around them now? They’re gonna think we’re dating or something. Oh, god, and Mom’s gonna pounce.” I grabbed at his arms and stopped his retreat. “I cannot go through sex advice from my mom again, Tommy. You gotta help me think of a fix.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Tommy said easily. “I’m going to get a shower. Save me some coffee.”

“You’re the absolute worst!” I hissed. He grinned at me over his shoulder and pulled the door closed after him.

I took a couple of minutes to calm down—and to slap a dab of concealer on a patch of skin that was suspiciously pink from Tommy’s beard—then padded down the stairs to greet my parents.

“Mornin’,” I called.

“Mornin’! We’re in here, honey,” Mom called from the kitchen.

I entered with a smile on my face. While being caught unawares wasn’t ideal, I was really happy to see them. Mom caught me in a tight hug that I returned, and Dad, sitting at the table, tilted his head up so I could kiss his cheek without interrupting his coffee drinking.

“I brought stuff for breakfast,” Mom said, turning back to the stove. Murphy made every step she took, eyeing whatever foodstuff she happened to have. “Have a seat! Tell me everything. It feels like forever!”

I laughed. “Mom, I talked to you two days ago. And, speaking of, you didn’t mention coming in today. I haven’t finished the bedclothes for the guest room yet. I wanted them to still be fresh.”

Mom waved a hand. “We wanted to surprise you, didn’t we, Jerry? Jerry!”

“Hm?”

“Didn’t we want to surprise Jack? That’s why we came early.”

Dad nodded, eyes never leaving the newspaper he’d obviously retrieved from my stoop. “Yep.”

Mom looked at me, arching a brow. “I hope that’s okay, honey. We didn’t mess up any plans you and Tommy had, did we?”

“No, of course not. We sort of do our own thing. He’s very low-key, as far as roommates go. Comes and goes as he pleases.”

“Jackie, you’re babbling,” Mom said with a knowing smile. “Now, I hope you aren’t embarrassed about having a relationship with that sweet young man.”

I snorted. Couldn’t help it. “I’m not. Having a relationship, I mean. We aren’t—it’s not really that sort of situation. I told you, we’re just friends.”

She made that sound of acknowledgement that only mothers are capable of making, the one that basically says, “I hear you, but I’m disregarding everything you say because I’ve formed my own opinion.”

I decided to steer the conversation away from Tommy. “How was the trip up?”

“Oh, great until we crossed the state line. I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen interstates in such poor shape.”

“They’re pretty crap,” I said, moving to pour myself a cup of coffee. The pot was almost empty. I took a careful sip, then another, and then poured the last dredges into my cup._ Ha! Take that, Conlon_, I thought with a secret smile.

“And of course you father insisted on driving the Nova,” she continued, rolling her eyes. “I said Jerry, you know there’s snow on the ground. It’s just gonna get sludged up. But he likes to show up the young guys, I guess. I don’t know. I never know what you’re father’s thinking unless we’re naked.” She cackled—_HAHA-hahaha_. I knew the sound well.

“He likes to take her out now and then,” I said, sliding into a chair beside my dad. “She still hesitating when you decelerate?” I asked him.

“Hm? Yeah. Bobby’s supposed to take a look soon as the weather ain’t shit.”

“So,” Mom said, plopping a plate of eggs and bacon onto the table. “How are things with you?” She pulled a piece of bacon and nibbled, then turned to retrieve milk and juice from the fridge.

“Good. Still getting good hours at the diner. That, with my savings, and I’m sitting pretty comfortably right now.”

“I bet having a roommate takes a little of the load off,” Mom said, eying me over her glass of chocolate milk.

She thought she was slick, steering the conversation back to my roommate so she could dig for illicit details, but I knew her tricks. I shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m up for a promotion, so I’m not worried about it either way. How’s Jamie and the kids?”

And so it went for the next couple of minutes, Mom peppering me with questions, trying unsuccessfully to bleed me for information on Tommy—as if I hadn’t spilled eighty percent of the information over the phone at various times—and me thwarting her at every turn. Dad half-followed the conversation, eyes occasionally flicking from speaker to speaker. Keeping score, I suspected. Like verbal tennis.

After the fourth deflected question about whether having Tommy around helped “release tensions”—wink wink, nudge nudge—I rose and helped myself to another glass of OJ. I’d stood firm on the coffee situation and hadn’t made any more, but if Tommy didn’t hurry up and get his ass down here, I was going to have to cave and make another pot.

“Okay, fine,” Mom said, throwing up her hands. “I’m just going to say it, honey.”

“Ah, god,” I groaned, letting my head fall forward.

“I, for one, am glad you decided to cut out that vow of celibacy—”

“It wasn’t a vow of celibacy,” I interjected.

“—cause your color looks better than it did this summer. Doesn’t her color look better, Jerry?”

Dad glanced at me and tilted his head, shrugging before going back to the sports section. “Looks same as she did in July.”

“Thank you, Daddy. There was nothing wrong with my color,” I told Mom. “And even if there was, I doubt being celibate—or not—had anything to do with it.”

“Nope. Skin’s glowing and your eyes are bright. That’s the result of some good ol’ fashioned vitamin D,” she said with a wink.

“Moooom,” I whined. “Dad, control your wife.”

“Diane,” my father drawled, turning the page of the newspaper.

“I’m just excited,” Mom said. “Now that you’re back on the horse, maybe one day you’ll give me and you daddy some grandkids.”

“Johnnie’s got two rugrats and Jamie’s got three. Plus, whatever coed Glen’s dating this week probably has the mentality of a child, so that sort of counts. You guys are fine on the grandkids front.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but her phone rang and interrupted whatever she’d been about to say. Thankfully.

She looked at the screen and rolled her eyes. “It’s your sister,” she sighed. “I swear, sometimes I think the doctor who delivered her forgot to cut the damn umbilical.” She answered the call and tucked the phone against her ear while she buttered some toast. “Hey, Jamie. Yes, we’re here, honey.”

I felt heat at my back and turned to look up at Tommy, who’d crept downstairs without a sound. He glanced at the coffee pot then back at me, eyes narrowed. I shot him a smug smile and jerked my chin toward the cabinet that held the coffee beans. The corner of his lips curved slightly, but his eyes promised retribution.

I could hardly wait.

“Daddy, this is Tommy,” I said, moving back toward the table. “Tommy, my dad, Jerry.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tommy said.

“Likewise.” Dad stuck out a hand, shook Tommy’s. I tried to make sure they weren’t white-knuckling each other, but it seemed amiable enough. “Glad Jack’s got somebody here with her. Wasn’t thrilled with her living by herself in the city.”

“It’s not like we’re downtown,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You want something to eat?”

Tommy looked at the spread and sat down. “Sure. Looks good.”

Mom turned and patted my shoulder, still on the phone. “Okay, honey. Love you too. Here’s your sister.” She held the phone out to me and waved a hand, ushering me away from the table while I talked.

I frowned at my half-eaten eggs, but took the phone to the living room and greeted my baby sister. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

“Merry Christmas Eve!” she chirped. “I know I’ll talk to you tomorrow, but I just wanted to say hi. You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend, you heifer.”

I sighed. “I don’t. Consider the source of your information.”

Jamie clucked her tongue. “Shoulda known. She was over here the other week all excited ‘cause you were hooked up with some hot neighborhood bad boy.”

I winced and sucked a breath through my teeth. “He’s not a bad boy,” I said. “But he’s not my boyfriend either.”

“Wait, wait,” Jamie said, and she laughed. “So you _are_ hooking up with somebody?”

“It has been known to happen occasionally, ya know,” I muttered.

“Is he hot?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”

“Like, how hot? Like Channing-Tatum-grinding-to-Pony-while-welding hot?”

“I don’t know how your rating system works,” I said. “But you remember that scene on _Pompeii_ when Jon Snow walks out of the thing in the rain or whatever and it’s all slow-mo man-walk and I started giggling in the theater? Like, that’s the same sort of feeling I get sometimes. Like the ridiculous urge to giggle uncontrollably.”

“Oh my god, I’m jealous. Tim’s hotness doesn’t make me giggle uncontrollably.”

I grinned as I pictured my brother-in-law, who looked alarmingly like the cartoon version of Ichabod Crane. “Personality is what matters, little sister.”

“That’s just something people with hot casual sex partners tell people with ugly husbands.”

“That’s not nice,” I said, laughing. I stopped talking and listened—

“_HAHA-hahaha_!”

“Oh, shit, Jamie. She’s doing the laugh. I gotta go.”

“You left him alone with her? Are you crazy?” Jamie chuckled. “Okay. Love you. Talk tomorrow, right?”

“Of course. Merry Christmas Eve! Love you, bye!”

I hung up the phone and made a beeline for the kitchen. One look at Tommy told me all I needed to know. He was smiling, eyes focused on his coffee cup. And he was blushing profusely.

“What did you do while I was gone?” I demanded, handing Mom’s phone back.

She grinned. “Your friend and I were just talking, officer. No need to break out the handcuffs.”

I made a buzzer noise and pointed a finger. “Keep it together, Mama. The day’s still young and you’re already tiptoeing around your quota of innuendos and double-entendres.”

Dad looked at me. “We got a jar at home she put in last week. Gotta put a dollar in every time she makes some juvenile remark after work hours. Got about eighty-five bucks in it so far.”

“I do it out of love,” she said, grabbing my finger and shaking it merrily. She pulled me into a hug. “Sex is a completely natural thing and shouldn’t be stigmatized. And sexual humor is a great way to help folks lower their guard when it comes to archaic standards and stigmas.”

“I know,” I said, patting her shoulder before sitting to finish my cold eggs. “But Tommy’s not used to your sense of humor. I just think it’s best if we ease him into it, ya know?” I closed my eyes with a rueful smile and sighed as soon as the words were out of my mouth. “You know what I mean, mother.”

“_HAHA-hahaha_!”

\--

I pressed my back against the bedroom door, heaving a sigh and looking at Tommy, who’d retreated upstairs as soon as he could. “So…that’s my parents,” I said with a smile.

He shrugged. “They’re nice. Dunno why you were so freaked.”

I moved to my dresser, retrieving clothes so I could take a quick shower. “My mom was unusually subdued. She must’ve wanted to make a good impression after the incident with Glen’s last girl. What?” I asked when Tommy’s eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead.

“That was subdued?”

I nodded. “Oh, yeah. Usually she has a real problem with boundaries. It’s her work-brain, see. She analyzes everyone like they’re her patients and offers unsolicited advice. The problem is people don’t really like being told about their intimacy issues or offered remedies for performance problems the first time they meet someone.” I plopped on the end of my bed. “When I went down to visit over the summer, my brother Glen brought a girl home for Sunday dinner. When they were leaving, Mama gave her a big hug and proceeded to tell her that she’d never be happy livin’ a lie, and that she needed to embrace her sexuality instead of using men like Glen to hide the fact that she was a lesbian.”

“Damn.”

I grimaced. “Yeah. It was balls-awkward. The girl dumped Glen, but she made an appointment to come talk to Mom at her office later that week.” I eyed him, arching a brow. “What’d she say to you that had you blushing like a cute little schoolboy when I came in earlier?”

“I wasn’t blushing,” he said, crossing his arms.

I chuckled and tapped my cheeks. “Your cheeks were glowing like Rudolph’s nose, Tommy. What’d she say?”

He shrugged again. “Told me I looked nice and virile.”

“Did she ask if you believed in the g-spot and knew how to find it?”

He nodded, tucking his tongue in his cheek.

“Figured. That’s her ice-breaker most of the time. Prom night was always interesting around our house.” I glanced at him, curious. “What’d you say?”

“That I find it just fine.”

“Well…” I cleared my throat and stood, feeling my cheeks warm. I headed for the door. “I’m gonna get a shower real quick. Tell them I’ll be down in—”

“Don’t need a demonstration?” Tommy asked, boxing me in against the door. He nuzzled the back of my neck. “Your ma might think I was lying.”

I exhaled shakily, grinning. “I’d very much enjoy a demonstration, but as enticing as the offer is, I don’t really want to scream though an orgasm while my folks are in the house.”

He smiled against my nape. “But sex is a completely natural thing and shouldn’t be stigmatized,” he said, pressing a teasing kiss on my skin.

“Yep. And I might’ve given in,” I said, turning toward him. I cupped his face between my palms. “But you just used my mother’s words, and nothing kills the mood faster than that.” I kissed him smartly and nudged him back a step so I could open the door. “Tell them I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

\--


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas. Tommy talks to Paddy. Jack makes a confession.

I’d been unable to convince Tommy to come with us to church. He’d said he had some stuff to take care of. I wondered if it involved crawling into a bottle, but I didn’t ask him. I didn’t believe in fighting on Christmas Eve.

Mass went off without a hitch—with the exception of Sophia Tomasacci channeling her inner Beyonce during “Christmas Canon”. Still, other than the portly pre-teen getting a little bootylicious, it all went rather well. And Sister Helen had volunteered to lead the choir next year, so this was my last big hoorah before she took over. Thank the lord.

I smiled as I stepped out into the cold night air, Mom and Dad trailing behind me like little baby ducks. They hadn’t been to visit in quite a while, but a few parishioners recognized them. I saw Paddy Conlon heading toward his car, and I waved.

“Merry Christmas, Paddy.”

“You too, Jack.” He stopped and headed back toward me.

Since my folks were occupied with talking to Father Avery, I left them on the steps and met him halfway. “How’ve you been?”

He nodded. “Pretty good. Haven’t seen you around the meetings lately.”

“Been working some extra shifts,” I said, sniffing against the cold.

“Miss your cookies,” he said with a smile. “Between you and me, wish Donna would just buy those packaged things instead of trying to bake. You don’t want to say no and hurt her feelings, ya know? But it’s like eating cardboard.”

I laughed. “You can’t tell her nothin’, though. I’ve tried.”

“Your folks up for Christmas, huh?”

“Yeah.” I looked over my shoulder. “They’re staying a few days. Came early,” I added, rolling my eyes. “But it’s okay.”

“Tommy doing all right?”

I knew it wouldn’t be long before he asked. Tommy had talked to his dad a few times in the driveway on his way in or out, but hadn’t made any efforts to go beyond that. “Yeah. He’s doing pretty good, Paddy. Clean, for the most part.”

“Good.”

I leaned against his car and looked at him. “Every now and then I try to get him to come over and see you, but…”

“He ain’t ready. I get it. Important thing’s he’s clean.” Paddy smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re good for him, ya know. His mother—rest her soul—she doted on both my boys, and I…well, I’m sure he’s told you by now how I was back then.” He looked away, focused his attention on his hands while he continued. “The both of us, we loved our boys. But you don’t take Tommy’s bullshit but you don’t tear him down, either. I don’t know anybody’s ever loved him with that kinda balance.”

“Oh, no, we’re not—I don’t—”

Paddy canted his head and scoffed, an action I’d seen Tommy do a dozen times. “Jeez, Jack,” he chuckled. “I got eyes, don’t I? The two of you might not see what’s what, but some of us do.”

“Who the hell is ‘us’?” I demanded, cheeks flaming. I hated being talked about without being there to police what was being said.

“Me and Brendan,” he said, as if it were obvious. “He called right after Tommy moved in, wanting to know everything I knew about you. Might not like to talk to me most times but he was sure willing that day.”

I wanted to be mad, but couldn’t really find it in me. I mean, Brendan was just checking up because he’d appointed himself Tommy’s keeper, or whatever. Still, it tweaked me that he’d investigated me, however casually.

“Ah, relax,” Paddy said. “You’re a good kid, Jack. Sooner or later you and Tommy’ll see what’s right in front of you.”

“Jack, honey,” Mom called, drawing my attention from Paddy. She and Dad approached and I straightened from Paddy’s car. “We were wondering where you went off to.”

“Mom, Dad, this is Paddy Conlon. Paddy, my folks.”

“Oh, you’re Tommy’s dad!” Mom shook his hand enthusiastically. “Your son is just an absolute doll. Such a sweet boy.”

Paddy smiled politely. “Thank you. It’s his mother’s doing.”

“We’d better get back to the house,” I said. “See you, Paddy.”

He opened his door and slid behind the wheel. “Sure, Jack. And merry Christmas, huh?”

Mom wrapped a hand around Paddy’s door and leaned over. “You got any plans for Christmas, Mr. Conlon?”

“I usually get a plate from the diner. Not really the sort to make a big fuss, ya know?”

Mom’s shoulders arched slightly. Oh, shit. We called it the Cobra position. Any impulsive decision involving another person was generally preceded by that subtle shift in posture, like a cobra entrancing its prey right before it struck. Surely my mother, who thanks to me knew the gory details of the dysfunctions of the Conlon family, wasn’t about to—

“Why don’t you join us for Christmas dinner tomorrow evening?” she asked, all smiles and innocence. Paddy glanced at me, but Mom intercepted his attention again. “I insist! There’s gonna be plenty of food. We’re even making three kinds of pie. What’s your favorite? We’ll make four if we need to.”

She’d kicked up the accent, pouring on the charm like any good manipulative Southern Belle.

“Um, sure,” Paddy said. “I—I’ll think about it.”

I stifled a sigh. It wasn’t his fault. I’d never seen anybody deny an invitation from Mom when she caught them unawares. Jamie and I had talked about the possibility that she was a witch or something, but we didn’t have any hard evidence.

Paddy pulled away with a wave, and I turned on my mother. “What—why? Why, Mom?”

“What’s the big deal, Jack?”

“You know what the big deal is. Tommy and his dad, they’re not like us. They don’t get along. Like, at all. I’ve told you that.”

Mom adjusted her glasses and lifted her chin. “Well, maybe we can help.”

I closed my eyes briefly and sighed. “Mom, it’s not our business. And believe me when I tell you that this won’t help.”

“Jaqueline, your friend’s father lives right across the street and was about to spend Christmas day alone, eating dinner in a diner.” She’d ditched the calm, even tone of therapist and had switched to her mom-voice. “Now, I don’t give a damn if the two of them never say a word to each other in passing tomorrow, but I wasn’t about to let him stay home alone when he could spend the day with his son. Maybe it will be a disaster, but at least we’ll have tried. You never get any good results in life if you don’t have the balls to take a chance and try something.” She threw a pointed look my way.

“We’ve had this conversation,” I said, not even pretending to play dumb. “Tommy and I are comfortable with just being friends, so—”

“But you’re not just friends,” Mom interrupted. “You have actual _intimacy_, not just sex. I saw it today. And that’s something a lot of established relationships lack. I’m just sayin’, if you’d buck up and put the offer on the table, the two of you could be comfortable in something a little more emotionally fulfilling.”

“We’re emotionally fulfilled. We’re fine how we are.”

“Horseshit,” Mom muttered, but she let the matter drop. For now.

Fact was I didn’t want to think about broaching the relationship topic with Tommy again. He got skittish, and I wasn’t the type to put up with the yo-yo bullshit of him running off and then coming back. Last time was a fluke. If Brendan hadn’t run into me at the diner, I’d never have tracked Tommy down. I might’ve missed him a little longer, but I would’ve gotten over it.

After the number he’d done on me when he rabbitted that first time, what the hell would happen if we were a legit couple and he took off? Ugh. I’d become one of _those_ girls, the ones that watch The Notebook and cry in bed, surrounded by old pictures of her ex.

No thanks.

Anyway, as we walked home, Mom chatted about what all she planned to cook for dinner. My mind, however, stayed on Paddy. It felt uncharitable—cowardly, really—but I really hoped the old man didn’t show. Tommy seemed in a pretty decent place right now. Even with Christmas and the memories he had of his mom, he hadn’t been withdrawn or sullen like I’d feared he’d be. He’d been sleeping peacefully and still planned to go to Brendan’s for New Year’s. And things were good with us. Easy. I meant what I’d told my mom. We were comfortable. We had a routine, a solid friendship. And he’d perceive Paddy’s coming to Christmas dinner as a forced interaction, and he’d probably be a little hacked that I’d meddled—even though I hadn’t had anything to do with it.

“Jack, are you even listening to me?”

I looked at Mom and nodded, but she arched a brow as if she didn’t believe me. “Okay, no, not really. Sorry, Mama. What?”

She smiled and linked her arm with mine. “Never mind. Come on. Let’s get home. My grandpup probably wants to go out for a bit before bed.”

“I doubt it. She hates the snow.”

I unlocked the door just as Tommy pulled up on his Triumph. Mom and Dad went in to get ready for bed, but I lingered on the stoop and watched him approach. Murph ran past me and out into the yard, jumping around Tommy’s legs until he squatted down and ruffled her fur.

“How was your night?” I asked.

He shrugged and stood. “Good. How was church?”

“It was really nice.” He stood at the foot of the steps, looking up at me. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he said, shaking his head.

I reached up to fidget with my earring. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

He grinned and scoffed. “You’re paranoid, anybody ever tell you that?” He climbed one step, then another, holding my gaze. “You look good tonight.”

I chuckled and dropped my hand. “It is possible, ya know. Occasionally. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“I ain’t dressed up.”

It was my turn to shrug. “Didn’t say you were. Just said you looked good.” I reached out and gripped the front of his leather jacket. “You okay? I know this time of year isn’t—”

“Nah, I’m fine,” he said. His mouth hitched in a crooked smile. “Been pretty distracted,” he added, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead. “Weird, huh?”

“No, it ain’t,” I said. I cleared my throat. “You wanna go in?”

He shook his head slowly. “Not just yet.”

He cupped my face between his hands and drew me forward, onto my toes, and kissed me. And it was…different. Languid and deep, as if we had all the time in the world to just stand there with the snow falling lightly around us.

When he finally pulled back, it took a few seconds to work up the will to open my eyes. I’d heard about kisses like that, but me and Tommy, it wasn’t the way we did things. That was…I dunno. Sweet. _Romantic_, even. Not exactly our M.O. It wasn’t like I needed something else adding to the jumble of confusion rocking my brain whenever I thought about the two of us.

“What’re we doin’, Jack?” he whispered, searching my face.

“Talking.” My eyes went to his lips again. “Kissing,” I breathed.

“I…I think I broke my own rule,” he said. His brows lowered, and for a minute he looked upset. Maybe a little frustrated.

“What do you mean, Tommy?”

Just like that, the unidentifiable expression was gone, and his face settled into a polite mask. “Nothin’. Let’s go in, huh? Cold out here.” He turned and whistled for Murph, who bounded inside without hesitation.

We hung up our coats, and I worried my lip with my teeth. I snagged his wrist. “I gotta tell you—look, you might get pissed, but my mom invited Paddy to dinner tomorrow evening.”

Tommy licked his lips and sighed, but nodded. “S’fine.”

“Really?” I asked with a dubious frown.

A smile flashed, but was gone pretty quick. “Nah. But it’s whatever, right? Ain’t like it’ll be the first time me and the old man come to blows in the middle of a dinner.” My face must’ve done a thing, because he rolled his eyes. “Christ, Jack. Lighten up, huh? I’m kidding.”

“Your sense of humor needs work, sweetheart.” I walked past him to hunt down my mom. She was in the kitchen, apparently having forgotten she was supposed to be going to bed. “You aren’t gonna start cooking now are you?”

She waved me away. “No. Just setting some stuff out. I figured I’d get up around 5:30 and get started.” She glanced over my shoulder and lowered her voice. “I’ll let you sleep in if Tommy’s gonna be comin’ down your chimney tonight.”

“Moooom.”

“_HAHA_-hahaha! It’s after midnight. I got a full arsenal again.” She licked her finger and mimed drawing a tally mark. 

I laughed and shook my head. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to skip today, it being Jesus’s birthday and all?”

She snorted. “First of all, Jesus was born in the spring, so no. Also, you can’t tell me the Father doesn’t have a sense of humor about this kinda thing because he’s the one who made the penis look like a happy accident. Oh, Tommy, honey! Can you lift that big skillet down for me?”

I looked over to where Tommy had just come into the kitchen. Judging from his expression, he’d heard Mom’s amusing description of the male anatomy. He reached up and dragged the heavy electric skillet from the top cabinet, placing it gently on the counter.

“I just wanted to say goodnight, Mrs. Ross.”

“Call me Diane,” Mom said. “Mrs. Ross was my mother-in-law, rest her soul.”

I clucked at her. “Gram’s not dead.”

“Yeah, well. Soon enough.”

“You’re a terrible person,” I said, shaking my head again.

“Jaqueline, I’ve been married to your father for thirty-five years, and the old hag still just refers to me as ‘that girl’. I’ve earned my right to be a terrible person.” She patted Tommy’s shoulder and chuckled. “Ain’t that right, Tommy?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She beamed at him. “You’re so agreeable. Such a sweetie.”

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered. Tommy shot me a look. I slung my arms around Mom’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “I love you even if you’re terrible. You want any help down here?”

“Nope. Go to bed.” She bustled about the kitchen, gathering dry ingredients so she could get everything together for the morning. “It’s Christmas Eve. Go get your stocking stuffed.”

“Oh my god, Mom.”

But Tommy laughed, a hearty laugh that made his nose crinkle and his eyes light up. “C’mon, Jack. G’night, Diane.”

Mom winked. “Goodnight, sweetie. Ho, ho, ho.”

\--

Paddy didn’t show for dinner. As confusing as it was, I was a little disappointed. I mean, yeah, it was a horrible idea, but I guess some part of me had been a little hopeful that this year’s Christmas miracle would be healing the Conlon family dynamic, even just a little. Probably would’ve been more realistic to have asked Santa for a pony.

“It just makes me sad to think of him all alone over there,” Mom said. She bustled around the table, clearing plates and transferring food into smaller containers.

“He probably didn’t want to intrude.” I glanced at Tommy, who was washing dishes, but he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to us.

“But we invited him.”

“I know, Mom. I was there. I’m sure he had something else to do.”

Tommy pulled the plug in the sink to drain it, then began running fresh water. “Diane, I gotta run out for a few minutes, but when I get back, those dishes better still be dirty.” He raised his brows in warning, but the look was softened by the goofy grin that accompanied it.

Mom snorted. “Talk to that one. She’s the one who has a problem with dirty stuff.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Where you going?”

“Get coffee. You need anything?”

“No. Good luck finding someplace open, though.”

I bumped him with my hip as he passed, and he slapped my butt. I shot a look at my Mom, but thankfully she had her back to us. Tommy tucked his tongue between his teeth and smirked.

When he’d gone, I rifled through the cabinets until I found some pack-and-go containers.

“What’re you doing?”

“Gonna take some stuff to Paddy,” I said. “Me and Tommy’ll be eating leftovers for a week as it is.” I got a little bit of everything and shrugged into my coat, zipping it to my chin. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Here!” Mom called. She tucked another two containers on the stack I carried. “A little more pecan pie and some of my marshmallow salad.”

“You’re gonna give the man diabetes,” I said, backing out the door.

“Do you need help carrying?”

“Nah, I got it. Be right back.”

I maneuvered the slushy stoop with far more grace than I expected, given that my hands were full. Of course there was no one around to witness my feat. The sidewalk in front of Paddy’s proved a little more treacherous, however, and my carefully stacked containers crumbled like a Jenga tower, scattering into the snow-capped bushes next to Paddy’s front steps.

“Oh, sonofa…”

I retrieved the containers, checking for cracks and leaks, then counted them. I was missing the bowl with the cranberry relish. I tugged my phone from my pocket and flipped on the flashlight, then crept between the shrubs and the stoop to find the wayward container. My fingertips brushed the lid and I grabbed it, straightening beneath the window. The holly bush snagged and pulled at my coat, jabbed at my legs through my jeans. I twisted, trying to get unstuck without plucking a hole or eighty in my coat, stopping when voices rose from inside.

“—busted their asses all day on that meal and you can’t even be bothered to show?”

“Don’t come in here with that bull, Tommy. You came here to bitch me out for that? You didn’t want me there.”

“When you ever gave a shit what I want?” Tommy asked. “Jack and her folks invited you.”

Unable to resist, I peeked over the window ledge. Probably looked like a prowler, but if anybody happened by, nobody would question the story about dropping the containers. Too many in the neighborhood knew me from the diner.

Paddy sat in the recliner in front of the window, and Tommy stood across from him. Arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed in contempt. I couldn’t see much of Paddy’s expression, but judging from his tone of voice, it doubtless looked a lot like Tommy’s.

“Ah, so that’s it, huh? And since when do you care about Jack?”

Tommy scoffed and dropped his arms, turning away with a shake of his head. Paddy said something else, but since it sounded like he gargled with broken glass on the daily, I couldn’t hear what he said when he lowered his voice. Whatever it was must’ve been a doozy, though, because Tommy’s head whipped around so fast I’m surprised he didn’t get lightheaded.

“Don’t pull that shit with me, old man,” he said. “I told you I got no use for your caring-father bit.” Another round of quiet growls from Paddy had Tommy’s jaw clenching. “I know she is. I don’t need you or anybody else tellin’ me how good a person Jack is, ‘cause I know.”

Paddy sat forward suddenly, waving a hand. “The girl’s crazy about you, Tommy. It doesn’t make sense why you won’t accept it!”

“Because I can’t!”

“Why the hell not?” Paddy demanded.

Tension drained from Tommy’s shoulders, and they slumped a little as the fight left him. “Because, Pop.” He raked a hand through his hair and slouched onto the sofa, sighing as Stubb jumped into his lap.

_Because_? That was his answer? That wasn’t an answer!

I clung a little tighter to the windowsill, glancing around quickly to make sure nobody was on the street, before leaning closer.

“Tommy, what happened with your mother and me—”

Tommy shook his head and gently shoved the cat off his lap. “I ain’t rehashing all this bullsh—”

“Fine,” Paddy said, rising and stepping in front of his son. “But you’re damn-well gonna listen to me. Things weren’t always like they were when you were coming up. I’m the one who screwed it all up, with the women and the booze. I never got to make things right with your mother, and I gotta live with that every day.” He jabbed a finger at Tommy’s chest without quite touching him. “But if you don’t stop punishing yourself for my mistakes, then one day it’s gonna be you sitting alone in your old house on Christmas, surrounded by pictures of people who don’t want nothing to do with you, wishing you could change the past.”

Tommy’s fists were clenched, his eyes narrowed as he stared somewhere left of Paddy’s head. “I ain’t you,” he said slowly, blinking and bringing his eyes to Paddy’s.

Paddy shook his head but kept his eyes steady on Tommy. “Not yet, you’re not.”

I abandoned my hiding spot and burst from the bushes, hurrying up the stoop before somebody got their nose broken. I rang the doorbell, slapping on a bright smile when Paddy jerked the door open.

His surprise was evident. “Jack.”

“Hey. You didn’t make it over, so I brought you some stuff. Oh.” I glanced down at the single bowl in my hand and then down to where I’d stacked the rest on the bottom step. I retrieved them all and offered the bounty to Paddy.

“You wanna come in?” he asked.

“Hm? Oh, no. I better get back to the house. My mom’s probably on a cleaning spree by now. Merry Christmas, Paddy.”

“You too, Jack.”

I headed for home, glancing in the window as I passed. Tommy was perched on the arm of the sofa, scratching Stubb on top of the head. He glanced up at Paddy as he passed with the armload of leftovers, then stood and zipped his jacket. I walked on.

I untied my scarf as I entered my house, mooshed my dog’s face, and headed to the kitchen. I expected to see a counter full of clean dishes, but the place looked exactly as it had when I’d left. So much for Mom’s cleaning spree. I went to the sink to finish the dishes.

“He said he’d be right back,” Mom reminded me, sipping her coffee. “That’s why I didn’t do them.”

“I ain’t scared of Tommy Conlon,” I said teasingly. I added a bit of fresh hot water to the sink.

Mom hummed along with whatever classic Christmas song was playing from the little stereo on the counter. She had her feet propped in my dad’s lap, and he was absentmindedly squeezing them through her fuzzy socks while he read a copy of _No Country for Old Men_. I felt a pang of longing, picturing myself twenty years in the future, enjoying the post-Christmas dinner quiet. And dammit, I wanted Tommy to be the one I was enjoying it with.

“You okay?” Mom asked, tilting her head as she examined me.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Just thinking.” I turned to the sink and set about finishing the dishes.

Mom groaned and stretched. “Jerry, honey. You ready for bed yet?”

“Mm-hm,” Dad grunted.

“Well, come on.” She kissed the side of my head as she passed. “Love you, Jackie.”

“Love you, Mama.”

“Be ready to hit the after-Christmas sales tomorrow. I’m talking _all_ day.”

I grinned. “If I thought you’d make it more than two hours, I might be scared.”

Dad squeezed my shoulder as he stood. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, Daddy. See you in the morning.”

When my folks had gone to their room and the house was quiet, I turned out the living room lamp and let the lights from the Christmas tree throw the room into a soft, warm glow. I smiled softly and turned out the kitchen light as well, leaving only the small bulb over the sink on so that I could see the dishes I was washing. I hummed along with the radio as the opening for “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” began.

I put the dried dishes away to make room in the drain-board for the last few pots and pans, singing quietly to myself. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light. From now on our troubles will be out of sight…”

I jumped slightly, then settled into a smile with a sigh as Tommy’s hands came around my hips. He kissed the side of my neck.

“I told your ma I was gonna finish those,” he said.

“I know. I just figured I’d go ahead and do them. I didn’t know what time you’d be home.”

“Come ‘ere.” I grabbed a towel to dry my hands as he turned me in his arms. He took a sharp inhale and let it out slowly, eyes boring into mine. Opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

I swayed in time to the music and brought my hands up to drape my wrists over his shoulders. “Dance with me.”

One corner of his mouth hitched. “I don’t do that.”

I grinned and swayed more forcefully. “So start.”

He chuckled and ran a hand over my hair, tucking a lock behind my ear as he joined my swaying. I laid my cheek on his chest and his arms tightened around me a little more. We finished the song, and he kissed the top of my head and moved to fix a cup of coffee.

“Want one?”

I shook my head. “So I feel like I need to confess something.”

“I ain’t a priest.”

“For which I’m thankful, or I’d have _a lot_ of explaining to do,” I said, rolling my eyes. “No, I saw you over at Paddy’s earlier and I, uh…well, it was sort of accidental—not like I actually set out to eavesdrop—”

He swallowed and licked his lips, sucking on them for a second. “What’d you hear, Jack?”

“Your dad outed how I feel about you, so there’s that.” I picked at my fingertips and felt my cheeks heat.

Tommy scoffed. “You’re not very good at hiding shit like that. No matter what you say, you ain’t the type to do casual sex,” he said, taking a drink of his coffee. “So he didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.”

I dropped my hands and hopped up onto the counter. “So…so why can’t we give this a real go? We already aren’t sleeping with anybody else. We live together—quite companionably, I might add. We got no problem calling each other out on our bullshit. And no matter what _you_ say, I know you’ve got your emotions tangled up in this deal, at least a little bit.”

He nodded once. “I do. It’s been a long time since I had a friend like you, Jack. I ain’t talking about somebody to fuck,” he added, shaking his head. “I mean somebody…somebody to remind me I’m human. Which is why I don’t wanna change anything. I told you months ago I don’t want you to fall in love with me.” He raked a hand through his hair in agitation and focused his attention on his coffee cup. “And I don’t wanna be in love with you.”

“But why, though?” I asked. I wasn’t hurt or bothered by his words. I was curious. I wanted—needed—to know why he felt so strongly about this.

“Because my mind is fucked,” Tommy said, smiling sadly and shaking his head. “I can’t love people anymore, Jack, because when I do, they die.” He threw up his hands. “That’s it. It’s irrational, but there it is.”

“Okay,” I said, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and drawing his hand away from his mug. I tugged, making him take a sidestep closer to me. I hooked my ankles around the backs of his thighs to keep him from bailing and scrunched my face up in thought. “What if I occasionally throw some kind of bitch-fit to ensure that you don’t fall in love with me?”

“So nothing would change, then,” he said. He grunted and flinched away when I jabbed a finger in his ribs, the only spot I’d found where he was ticklish, then he sobered. “Is it really that important? Saying we’re together instead of just keeping on like we’re going now?”

I shrugged. “Not a deal-breaker. But I think it might be good, for the both of us. Something to…I dunno. Keep us grounded, I guess, when things get rough. I mean, I know it’ll be really hard to not fall head-over-heels for me because I _am_ super fuckin’ adorable, but…” I cupped his cheek and offered a small smile. “Fact is, I never been as crazy about anybody like I am you. We’re good together, you and me. And seriously, nothing would change except other girls would know you’re mine and that I’d tear their eyeballs out if they looked at you crossways.”

That startled a laugh out of him. “You’re nuts, you know that?”

I lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Long as you don’t care, I don’t.”

He looked at me for a long moment, brought his hands up to cradle my face. He stroked his thumbs over my cheeks and shook his head with a lopsided little smirk. “Nah. I don’t care,” he said, and then he lowered his mouth to mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	12. EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> H.E.A.

Tommy opened the door, hung up his keys, and he tugged off his sweaty, stained t-shirt. He bent and kissed the top of my head by way of greeting.

I marked my page in the copy of whatever mindless romance I’d been half-reading. “Hey. How was work?”

He shrugged. “It was work. I’m gonna grab a shower.”

“Okay. Dinner’s almost ready,” I said, tucking my book away and standing.

“You all right?” His brows drew down slightly as he looked me over.

“Yeah,” I said, inwardly wincing at the extra enthusiasm in my voice. _Tone it down, idiot. _“I’m fine. Just felt like cooking dinner’s all. I do like to cook, ya know. I was hungry, figured you’d be. Go on and clean up. I’ll finish in here. There. The kitchen.”

“Jack,” he said quietly, eyeing me suspiciously. “What’s eatin’ you?”

“Nothin’, Tommy. I’m…I’ll tell you over dinner, huh? Go get a shower.” I forced a smile. “You know how that sweaty mechanic smell gets me all hot and bothered.”

He gave me a slow blink and one corner of his mouth quirked upward. “You got issues, babe.”

As soon as he’d disappeared upstairs, I sank back on the sofa and thought about how I would break the news. I touched a hand to my stomach—barely starting to bump out—and sighed. Then I smiled, picturing a mischievous imp toddling around the kitchen, a mop of wavy hair from yours truly and a perfect, pouty mouth like his daddy. I had known I was pregnant for a while now, which would likely irritate Tommy to no end. I’d been waiting for the right time to bring it up, it just never came. But now my clothes were starting to fit differently and I doubted I could hide it much longer.

We hadn’t talked about kids lately. We’d never really talked about the future at all. Any hurdles came up, we dealt with them then. This was gonna be one of those times, even if it felt a little shitty likening my future child to a hurdle.

I hoped I would tell him and his face would split into that toothy, boyish grin I loved so much, and he’d throw his arms around me in unadulterated joy. We’d been together for almost three years now. And it wasn’t like I was expecting to get married right away. Catholic I might be, but traditional I was not.

But Tommy, though practically unrecognizable from the drunken, sullen man I’d first met, had never mentioned wanting kids. His own childhood had been trash, and his teen years after his mom had taken him and split hadn’t been much better because she'd gotten sick. Sure, Paddy had gotten sober and they could at least eat a meal together if I made them, but Tommy’s scars were still there, still throbbing. He didn’t want to risk ruining a kid’s life, didn’t want to risk loving someone else who would die or leave.

I stood and moved to the kitchen to set the table. Murphy was at my feet waiting for me to drop something. I tossed her a piece of biscuit just as Tommy came around the corner, still toweling his hair.

“You’re ruining the dog.”

I snorted. “Like I didn’t see you sharing your popcorn the other night? Please.”

He grinned and shrugged, then pulled out a chair and sat as he tossed his towel onto the empty bench beside him.

“You going to the gym after?” I asked, taking in his athletic shorts and t-shirt.

“Thought I might. Maybe just go for a run, I dunno. You wanna go?”

“Running?” I laughed and took my seat. “No, thanks. Once was enough for me.”

“You didn’t do so bad,” he said. I pinned him with a droll glare, and he grinned again. “All right, it was bad. But did you die?”

“There’s that good ol’ Conlon spirit,” I teased. He started eating and I fell silent, idly picking at my food. “Is it warm in here?” I asked finally, tugging at the collar of my t-shirt. “I’m burning up.”

He frowned around his mashed potatoes. “What’s goin’ on with you? What’s the matter—and don’t say nothing, Jack. You already said you were gonna talk at dinner, so talk.”

I exhaled a lungful and set my fork aside. “Fine. So you know how I had that doctor’s appointment some weeks back?”

“Yeah,” he said warily. “What about it? They find something?”

“You could say that,” I said. I didn’t want to drag it out, given how skittish he was about potential illness because of his mom. “Found a baby.”

He was quiet a long beat, then squinted over at me. “Scuze me?”

“Got a baby floating around in there,” I said. I took a deep drink of tea just to have something to do, then wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “So I’m pregnant. So that’s a thing.”

He, too, put his fork down. Leaned back in his chair. Stared for a minute. Then he pressed his fingertips against his eyes and took a deep breath. “Wait, wait. So…you’re pregnant, like now? Like _now_, now.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“How the fuck are you pregnant, Jack?” He scrubbed his fingers up into his hair, looking slightly panicked.

I felt myself getting irritated at the hint of accusation in the tone, but I kept my voice calm. “St. Paddy’s Day. We’ve tempted fate a few times over the years,” I reminded him. “Looks like it finally caught up to us.”

“And you’ve known about this for a fuckin’ month,” he said, rocking forward and covering his face with his hands. “Why’m I just now hearing about it?”

“Maybe because I knew you’d handle it so well,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Quit cussin’ at me, Tommy.”

His eyes widened like I’d sprouted horns. “You hide this shit from me, but it bothers you when I say fuck? Are you serious with this right now?”

“It’s the tone of your fucks that bug me,” I said. “Like you think I got pregnant on purpose and kept it from you to some great nefarious end. I just hadn’t figured out how to tell you yet, that’s all.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, bouncing his leg and looking everywhere but at me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Excuse me for feeling a little blindsided.”

I reached out and laid a hand on his knee to stop the bouncing. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I just…I didn’t know…” To my horror—and his—I burst into tears. “I don’t want you to be mad at me, Tommy.” I sobbed into my hands, turning away from him.

“Whoa, hey. Baby.” He was crouched in front of me in a second, gently tugging at my wrists to pull my hands away from my face. “Baby, hold up a sec, all right? Why you cryin’? Hey.” He swiped my cheeks with his thumbs and cupped my face in his hands. “Jack, baby, I ain’t mad at you. Look at me,” he commanded softly. I did, staring at a spot in the middle of his forehead. He chuckled and gave me a tiny shake. “My eyes, Jack. Look at my eyes.”

I reluctantly did as he asked, not wanting to meet the probing intensity of that storm-gray gaze.

“I am not mad,” he said, quietly emphasizing each word. “It’s okay.”

I blinked fresh tears. “I didn’t know if you’d be happy,” I admitted. “I wasn’t trying to hide it, Tommy. I swear. I—”

He drew close and kissed me, still cradling my face between his palms. When he pulled back, he smiled. “We’re gonna have a kid?”

I nodded, snuffling a laugh. “Yeah.”

He stood up abruptly and pulled me into his arms, burying his face in the side of my neck. “We're gonna be a good family. I swear on my life, baby, I'll be good to you. So good to you both.”

His arms tightened around me and he kissed me again, laughing in delight, and my heart nearly exploded to see that my big tough Tommy Conlon had happy tears slipping unchecked down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write this short epilogue instead of a coming-to-terms-with-pregnancy drama because TOMMY CONLON DESERVES TO BE HAPPY WITHOUT HAVING MORE ANGST AND CONFLICT HEAPED UPON HIM. That is all. 
> 
> Thank y'all for reading! I hope you don't feel cheated with this, but I just wanted these two to be happy--no muss, no fuss.


End file.
